


Saltwater Room

by hipster-yams (madamedicelia)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, Lots of Background Ships, M/M, Music AU, Slow Burn, asexual Kenma, ayyyyy, full of awkward head canon occurrences, i don't actually know what i'm doing here, i live for college aus, like legit this is mad slow sorry yall, some angst idek, this is a slow descent into hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-04-06 22:06:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 60,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4238256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamedicelia/pseuds/hipster-yams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenma had been perfectly happy just attending class half-asleep, secretly practicing cello, and occasionally getting his hand stuck in the vending machine but <i>certain</i> people refuse to let his quiet bliss go on and force him to think about everything he's been trying to hide away in the depths of his mind for years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Do You Mean I Can't Play Your DDR Anymore

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic for this fandom pray for me i hope it's not ooc also this is a lot of exposition, i just needed to set the stage, things will start to move faster next chapter
> 
> EDIT: you betcha i literally actually linked my favorite versions of all the songs Kenma plays right in the chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma tries to continue his quiet life of tacky ass games and gets hell for it

Kenma pushed open the white wooden door and the cool air rushed around him. It was laden with the scent of coffee and tinged with sugary syrups and pastries. The quiet chatter and steam from the espresso machine filled his ears. The worn floor creaked under his steps. Everywhere, customers sat in fluffy couches or at mismatched tables nursing a beverage. The early morning sun lit up the knickknacks and flowers set up around the room. While Kenma loved to sit and relax at the Crème Pot, today he was in a rush. 

He walked past the large patches of sunlight, slightly disappointed that he couldn’t lounge in them; the morning was cold though the radios and TV prophesized a warm day. He queued up next to the pastry display and tried to peer into it to select his breakfast. Alas, a person shifted and blocked Kenma’s view of the precious sustenance. Damn tall people, he thought with a quick frown. He tried to lean around their broad shoulders to eye the goods to no avail. 

At least there’s only him in line. Kenma gave up his attempts as the man in front of him stepped forward. He checked his phone; still ten minutes until class. Kenma’s lecture was in a nearby building but he was not in the mood for an early morning jog. 

“Ah, hello. Can I have a grande iced caramel macchiato, low ice?” the man drawled, barely stifling a yawn. The dude didn’t even seem to have brushed his hair. How conspicuously messy. 

While Kenma was far from fashionable but he had watched enough episodes of What Not to Wear and learnt a thing or two. He didn’t want to stand out but horrible fashion was a raging beacon of “Please look at me!” Kenma tried to balance his wardrobe between chic and mismatched but that didn’t mean he didn’t know a poor fashion choice when he saw it. For example, this man ordering another drink was wearing sweatpants (please keep those at the gym), a ratty t-shirt (in this cold?), and had some of the worst bedhead Kenma had ever seen. By the time he reached the flip-flops with socks, Kenma was internally screaming. 

“And a venti green tea with soy milk…” The man droned on. Ew, soy milk, really?

Kenma decided that it was acceptable to space out for a while longer. He shifted as he picked up his previous train of thought. He was always afraid of what others might think of him or what he said so he tried to blend in. It wasn’t that he was bland or wanted to express himself; far from it. He had strong opinions on matters and wasn’t empty minded or blind to what was around him. It’s because of this hypersensitivity that he found it hard to express his thoughts. 

“-half-caf, no foam cappuccino and uh…”

Knitting his eyebrows, Kenma checked his phone again. Three minutes to class! This loser has been ordering overly-detailed coffees for nearly ten minutes. What the hell is half-caf anyways? 

By the time it was Kenma’s turn to order, he was five minutes late to class. The man turned away after paying and Kenma caught a glimpse of his face and his breathe caught in anger. _Aw fuck he’s hot, how dare he be fucking hot. Fuck this, fuck my life, fuck my coffee. I can’t deal with all this without caffeine._ He ordered a double shot of espresso in his latte and resigned himself to running to class with his breakfast in hand like some anime protagonist. He silently cursed the man and his attractive face while darting across the street to his biology lecture. 

He burst into the giant hall panting. People were still milling about. Kenma thanked the gods that the professor was tardier than him. He chose his usual spot; not too close but not too far back as to arouse suspicion but decently far away from other groups of people. He pulled out his laptop and opened his notes just as the professor entered. He sipped his coffee and occasionally typed a bit of information or an explanation. 

He still wasn’t used to the fact he actually had to give effort in class now. Until now, Kenma had glided along with solely his intelligence and sheer luck, somehow maintaining an A average. He was the dreaded combination of smart and lazy. It led to a lot of doodles in his notebook margins. Now that the topics were harder and more in depth, he actually had to study and he had no idea how to do it. Still, this was his sophomore year and he hadn’t failed yet so he must be doing something right. 

After a tiring day of STEM classes, humanities-loving Kenma collapsed on his dorm room bed. The thin mattress was more like cardboard but the amount of cushions and blankets piled on top more than made up for it. His obnoxious roommate was suspiciously missing but Kenma didn’t care; he welcomed the quiet. He had had mac and cheese and apple pie for dinner and had no pressing essays or work due soon. Kenma was content. He relaxed into his comforter, curling up and hugging his pillow. He had fallen into a light nap when he heard the dreaded noise. Keys jangling, shuffling, the doorknob turning. Lev was back. He groaned into the fluff and tried to disappear. Maybe if he sank deep enough, Lev wouldn’t see him. Maybe even life and all his problems wouldn’t be able to find him.

“Hey, Kenma-san, you awake?” a hesitant voice asked.

Kenma ignored the question and pretended to be asleep.

Lev snorted and muttered, “He even sleeps like a cat.”

Kenma heard the tall man climb into bed and start typing, the soft sound of music coming from headphones, which meant, to Lev, it was loud enough to possibly damage his hearing. 

Last year, Kenma had filled out his room request for a single almost as soon as the application went online. Though small, the room allowed Kenma a place to truly relax without worrying about others. However, this year, he completely forgot until the application was nearly due. Since it was first come, first served, Kenma and the other late applicants were stuck with each other, regardless of their preferences. This is how the gangly, loud, and Nancy Drew-level curious Haiba Lev ended up his roommate. Kenma tried for a transfer but no one else was willing to share a space with the half-Russian. Off-campus housing was unavailable for underclassmen so Kenma had to suck it up and deal with Lev and his shitty pop songs for a year. 

“Too hot, hot damn…” Lev mumbled along to his tunes while gently bobbing his head. 

You’ve been listening to that song since last week, aren’t you tired of it yet? Kenma mentally screeched, annoyed at Lev’s music choice and his own love of the song. _Fuck my music taste._

Despite their blatant differences, the roommates got on rather well. Most days, at least. They both secretly like the same bubblegum pop songs the radio played until the record worn through. They both engaged in some casual volleyball, though Lev was much more into it and was on the team. They had similar tastes in video games and sometimes shared their systems and disks. However, Lev’s childish nature pushed Kenma too far some days. Whether it was a social meeting in their dorm or prodding Kenma with personal questions or stealing Kenma’s snacks, it usually ended up with one of them spending most of the day elsewhere. Kenma liked to escape to the lowest level of the library, where it was so quiet he swore he could hear his heart beat sometimes. Lev had a short, choleric friend who usually let him bum around until Kenma cooled down. 

Kenma rolled over and peered at his roommate. Lev was still singing under his breath but was now reading a textbook, his silver hair glowing blue on one side from his computer. Feeling eyes on him, Lev looked up.

“Oh, you’re awake,” he noted with a smile. 

“Unfortunately,” Kenma replied, words muffled by his comforter. 

“Well, you can go back to sleep, if you want,” he shrugged. “I’m not having anyone over today because I’ve got a Russian quiz tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” Kenma said but reached over for his phone. 6:48pm. Also low on battery. Too early to sleep at any rate. 

He sat up and kicked aside his tangle of blankets. He selected his favorite red hoodie from his closet, one with a circle design with Amsterdam on it. He had bought it when his family visited the Netherlands a few years ago. He also pulled out large black case. With his height it lifted only a few inches of the ground. But, while large, it wasn’t that heavy.

“I’m going to go practice. See ya,” Kenma announced and opened the door.

“Later,” Lev distractedly muttered, staring intensely at something in his book. 

A short walk later, Kenma was outside. The tree were half-bare, the remaining foliage a muddle of reds and yellows. Around their bases were piles of the dead leaves, the pretty warm colored ones mixed with the crushed green and black ones. The chilly wind blew the crispy nature across the yard, its grass dull green. Other students rushed back to their dorms or to the dining hall. A couple very brave souls donned exercise gear, jogging along the stone paths. It was dark but the intermittent lamps lit up the walkway well enough. Kenma ducked his chin in his hoodie and picked up the pace, heading towards the arts building.

Once inside, Kenma relished the warmth. The lobby was rather dull, this years’ art students yet to have decorated it. He climbed the stairs and walked past several rooms, most dark though one was blasting samba music. A strange class to hold at this hour but its participants looked amused as they tried to step correctly. Key word, tried. Finally, Kenma reached his favorite music room. It was small, somewhat soundproof, and far, far from anyone.

He unzipped the case and pulled out the large instrument. It was a cello. The wood was a bit worn and lost its luster but produced wonderful noises when tuned correctly. Kenma sat in a chair and slid the bow over the strings, moving up and down a quick scale. He closed his eyes and started playing a song from memory. It was Bach’s [Suite No. 2 in D minor.](%E2%80%9D)

Kenma had been playing string instruments since second grade. His parents thought it a good idea to have him learn an instrument and selected the violin at first. Kenma excelled at his lessons, playing more marvelously than his parents could have ever imagined. Curious, the young Kenma tried out the viola and finally cello before settling on the latter. He loved the deep, resonant sounds it produced, from the sad melancholic to quick tunes that filled you with passion. 

At first, his parents thought it cute but when Kenma started becoming serious about playing more difficult music, they began to worry. They knew their shy child could never be comfortable on stage nor wanted him to pursue that path; it would be a hard career to start and short lived. They wanted him to pick something more functional to study, like medicine or law. They grew to dislike his passion for the cello. As so, Kenma could only practice when they weren’t home and could never speak to his parents about new pieces he had mastered or a new song he composed. 

Their disapproval seem to grow to cover all of Kenma’s hobbies; cello, video games, volleyball, composing, reading manga. They only wanted him to study. When they couldn’t see, he often had meltdowns from exhaustion and “poor grades.” He was unable to make friends, except a few short-lived acquaintances. He didn’t mind that; he didn’t want much to do with people in the first place. But dealing with all the pressure alone got to him sometimes. Even now, he was studying neuroscience at his parents’ demand. He found the topic interesting and didn’t mind studying it but he just wished his parents would support his other interests or at least see that he wasn’t a robot for them to mold and control. 

Drawing out the last long note, his mind wandered elsewhere. Finally away from the oppressing reach of his parents, he played as often as he wanted and even earned money by teaching others string instruments. It was strange to be able to do as he pleased but refreshing. He still worried what others thought but now that was his only close concern as opposed to before when his parents watched his every move. Kenma still felt their presence as they paid for his school but at last he felt free of their daily judgment and disapproval. 

Kenma was about to start Suite No. 3 when he heard voices outside the door. He froze.

“… Don’t want to be more…”

“… All for nothing?”

“We agreed at the beginning to…”

“… Changed. I didn’t mean to...”

“… I’m sorry…”

The discussion didn’t sound pleasant to Kenma but he was more nervous that they would enter his room. The voices tickled his memory but he could not place them. Perhaps they were in a class of his? To his relief, the voices faded as they continued walking presumably. 

Kenma rolled his eyes and started another song. It was [Secrets](%E2%80%9D) by OneRepublic. Unlike some other music snobs he’d met, he didn’t turn his nose up at modern popular music, even if rearrangements of pop songs were pretty simple. It wasn’t rare to find Lana Del Ray or Owl City or even the stray Nicki Minaj in his music library. Plus, he thought the song was apropos for the situation that had just passed. Silly college dramas. _I won’t ever get mixed up in one of those_ , he scoffed. 

He sung along quietly, closing his eyes as he played. Kenma found music helped keep that part of his mind occupied so that his normal processes could function better.  
His mind ran too fast, noted too much, overanalyzed anything and everything. 

Kenma practiced for more an hour, polishing a few pieces he had just learned. His phone told him it was 9pm and had 5%. He only needed it to check the time anyways. 

He carefully put his old cello away, first wiping it down and then securing it in place. He folded his sheet music and placed it in the extra space in the case where he kept his rosin tin, extra strings, and other equipment. He quietly slipped out of the room and padded down the hallway, his weathered Converse occasionally squeaking on the linoleum floors. Even the samba class had cleared out ages ago. 

He paused at the doors and gathered his courage. The campus was relatively safe but he worried nevertheless. Plus it was cold as fuck. He pushed open the door and darted into the dark, keeping an eye on other buildings and quickly peering into alleys before running past. It was only when he reached his dormitory’s stoop that he rested in the light. 

He fished around his pocket for his ID card and keys. It wasn’t in his hoodie pocket so he tried his jeans. A chill settled into his stomach. It wasn’t there. He didn’t even have his wallet. He had left his key in his room. Shit. Putting his cello down, he used both hands to text Lev.

To: Leg Halibut  
From: Kozume K.  
21:29

lev, can you open the door for me? I forgot my key

Kenma waited a minute, pulling his sleeves over his hands. No reply.

To: Leg Halibut  
From: Kozume K.  
21:35

Srly lev come open the door

The wind was freezing as Kenma stood in his hoodie, gazing at the lit-up windows. So close but so far.

To: Leg Halibut  
From: Kozume K.  
21:40

i s2g lev

To: Leg Halibut  
From: Kozume K.  
21:40

plOX open the door

The messages were all unread. Not a soul walked past. Kenma’s anxiety shot up as if carried by the breeze. He called Lev twice but no one picked up.

To: Leg Halibut  
From: Kozume K.  
21:45

wtf the fuck i left you in the dorm how can you not see your phone ringing

To: Leg Halibut  
From: Kozume K.  
21:51

i hate u so much 

Kenma swore loudly. _Why me? Why today? I only wanted to play my cello a little._

His only other option was to go down to the main office and ask for another key, which would result in much embarrassment and stuttering. He wanted to avoid that as much as possible. 

So he decided to wait. He would wait for another student to come along and beg them to open the door. That level of embarrassment he could deal with. 

To: Leg Halibut  
From: Kozume K.  
22:01

u shit, im never letting u play my ddr again

With that message send, Kenma’s phone went belly up and died. No more messages, calling, or even games while he waited. He sank to the ground, leaning against the wall. It was cold and tugged at the fabric of his clothes. He pulled his hood on and hid his chin in the fabric. He watched the tree branches rock in the wind and leaves hit objects mercilessly before disappearing into the dark. He rethought many of his life choices. 

Fifteen minutes later and still no sign of anyone. He had been waiting for nearly an hour at this point. He felt tears well up in the corners of his eyes but willed them not to spill. The last thing he needed was to be found crying outside. He sniffled from the cold, and only the cold mind you, and tried to calm down. He closed his eyes and lied to himself about how everything will be alright.

“Are you waiting for someone?”

Kenma’s eyes shot open and a tear fell. Shit.

“N-no, I just forgot my key,” he stuttered out the truth in shock instead of some half-assed lie. He looked away and tried to discreetly wipe his eyes. 

“Aw, that sucks. But don’t worry, I’ve done that, too.” The ginger smiled and offered his hand. “I’m Hinata Shouyou!”

“Kozume Kenma,” he replied and took the hand. Hinata pulled him up easily even though he was short and wiry. 

“So, what’s in the case?” Hinata asked, swiping his card and holding the door open.

“My cello,” Kenma said quietly, glad the boy either chose to ignore his sniffles or truly didn’t notice them. “I was practicing until just a while ago.” Not quite a lie but not quite the truth. 

“That’s neat!” Hinata exclaimed, following Kenma into the mudroom. “I always wished I could play an instrument but I have a terrible sense of rhythm.”

Kenma cracked a little smile. He was happy to be inside, sure, but this Hinata person radiated an aura of joy.

“Thanks again for letting me in,” Kenma said. “It was nice to meet you, Hinata.”

The orange-haired boy waved away the formality. “Just call me Shouyou. I hope to see you around, though. Bye, Kenma!”

“See ya, Shouyou.” Kenma waved as the boy bounded down the hallway. 

Hinata seemed like he had a lot of energy and Kenma truly wished to see him again. Perhaps they could be friends. He never had many of those and welcomed the idea. 

Kenma walked down the quiet hallway to his room. The door was covered in memes, supplied by a certain Russian. Surprisingly, said door was unlocked. Lev was snoring into a textbook, page damp with drool. Studying, my ass. Kenma swore at his sleeping figure before changing out of his street clothes. He eyed his PSP and considered starting a new quest but his body had other ideas as he sank into bed. 

Today was more eventful than an entire week. As he nodded off, he wished for the remainder of the week to go peacefully.

_Boy, was he in for a big storm._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honey, you got a big storm coming ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> Title is after the Owl City song of the same name aha he lp
> 
> Feedback is greatly appreciated and hum on tumblr @hipster-yams


	2. I Can't Believe You Beat All My High Scores

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo needs fashion help and Kenma tries to sport

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changed the title to something more pertinent; used to be "Something We're Not"
> 
> A little longer this time around, too. Many thanks to my beta reader [raviolli](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Raviolli/pseuds/Raviolli) for fixing my dumb mistakes like "into out" and awkward phrasing! 
> 
> Also, thank you all for the nice reception of the first chapter?! I completely did not expect for it to have any sort of popularity let alone a handful of subscriptions and kudos. Thank you all so much! I hope my writing and story continue to please you :3

Kenma walked into the familiar coffee shop and started screaming internally. 

The same man that had caused Kenma to be late to class a few days ago was the only one in line. Again. For the fourth day in a row. Kenma wanted to jump out the window. Besides Kuroo’s barrage of coffee, Kenma also needed his daily caffeine fix so he resigned himself to waiting for the slovenly man to recite another laundry list of beverages and snacks. 

_Damn this shop for being the only one that makes a decent latte,_ Kenma thought angrily as he caught the word “Americano.” That type of coffee involved adding hot water to espresso, which, in Kenma’s opinion, was a grave crime and hardly worthy of being titled “coffee.”

After ordering his own, latte with milk, like a decent human being, Kenma sat at the bar and waited for the poor barista to churn out every beverage exactly as the shorthand on the cups read. She called out names instead of naming the beverages, thank goodness. If she had to read “Grande half-caf, mocha latte with extra whipped cream” and the likes from strangers, we would all be waiting for our drinks until they were cold. 

“Sandwich for Kuroo,” another barista announced, sliding the package to the bane of Kenma’s existence. 

He thanked her with what Kenma deemed to be his signature grin, which really was more of a lopsided twitch of the mouth. She smiled back nervously and wished him a good day. Kenma had casually observed that the man was rather attractive, but nothing to gawk at like the barista had. Considering the stories Kenma heard about Kuroo, he was genuinely overrated. Sure, he was handsome and seemed courteous, but he was nothing Kenma would ever consider dating. Nope. Not at all. The “cool guy” was so not his type. 

“Kenma,” the barista called, quickly placing the cup on the counter before leaning back to tend to the machine. 

However, before Kenma could fully stretch out his arm, another hand swiped away his drink.

“Uhm, excuse me, that was mine?” he said, though his confusion made it sound more like a question. He was pretty sure his name was called.

“Huh?” None other than Kuroo had taken his precious caffeine. He looked at the name on the cup and raised his eyebrows. 

“Oh, sorry.” He held the drink sheepishly. “I wasn’t paying attention and the rest of my order didn’t come out yet so I thought it was mine.”

Kenma took back the drink, only the twitch of an eyebrow to denote his annoyance. “It’s fine,” he sighed. “They usually do orders in order but I guess they caught on that yours generally take a while and mine doesn’t.”

“Sorry again, then,” Kuroo said. He cocked his head to the side a bit, a wry smile on his lips. “I suppose they guessed that you’ve got somewhere to be, too, judging by the look on your face.”

Kenma chewed his lip. _Well, he’s not wrong._ “Yes, I generally have class now.”

“I would have thought that a teenager in a university sweater awake at 8am was heading to someplace like the mall or movies,” Kuroo joked. 

“Real shocker, that one,” Kenma deadpanned. “So these classes, I have to attend them so if you’ll excuse me.” Kenma took his leave before Kuroo could attempt to carry on the conversation. 

“See ya around, Kenma-san!” Kuroo waved as Kenma left. 

Kenma gave an awkward little wave before exiting onto the sidewalk. That was unexpected. It wasn’t necessarily unpleasant but Kuroo still bothered Kenma since he was indirectly the cause of him being late so many days. He tried not think about it too much as he marched to his biology lecture. At least now he wouldn’t be late again because of Kuroo and his ridiculous orders. 

 

~.~

Walking into the coffee shop, Kenma was confident. It was nearly noon on a Saturday. No classes so no reason for a certain someone to be here at this time. Kenma smiled at the empty queue, strangely proud at his success in avoiding Kuroo. He didn’t seem like a bad guy; Kenma just was sick of waiting so long in line for a simple beverage. 

Finally free of a schedule and annoyances, Kenma took his latte and sat in one of the large fluffy couches, a worn loveseat perfectly placed in the sunlight. He curled his legs under him and took a sip of his coffee. The sun warmed his body while his drink warmed him from the inside. He enjoyed the calming background noises of the café, closing his eyes to clear his mind. He had an essay due on Monday but decided he could relax right now, even just for a little bit. 

“Is that you Kenma?”

Kenma cracked open one eye to see a tuft of orange hair. Below it, an excited face smiled at him.

“Oh, Shouyou, hi,” Kenma said drowsily. All those late nights playing video games, ahem, sorry, _studying,_ he reminded himself, were really hitting him now. 

“Late night of gaming?” Hinata inquired, taking a seat next to Kenma, causing the sofa springs to creak. _Darn his intuition._

The two had seen each other once or twice more since that night and texted in the meanwhile. It turns out that Hinata didn’t live in that dorm but had a study friend there who lent him the key. He was studying to be a teacher, mostly likely for young children because he enjoyed working with them. Shouyou mentioned that he wanted to blend his ease with children with his passion of volleyball by becoming a coach. His sunny personality harmonized well with that profession, Kenma thought. 

“The singular works, too, I suppose,” Kenma said, with a small laugh. Playing a round or two of video games was like the semi-blonde’s version of reading before bed.

Hinata snorted and asked, “How do you even get all your work done when all you seem to do is game?” 

Kenma shrugged. “I dunno. Somehow it does. What about you?” he countered. “You seem to have volleyball on the mind all the time.”

Shouyou looked away with a nervous laugh. “Well, I’m more of a last minute crammer but I remember everything afterwards! Oh, but speaking of volleyball, I have a match tomorrow, if you want to watch. You said you played right?”

“Just sometimes. The team needed more members so I joined,” Kenma admitted. “I never really show up but no one minds.” 

“Well, come by anyways! I swear it’ll be exciting, like me and the setter have mastered this super quick spike that’s all like gwaa.” Shouyou moved his hands excitedly around as he talked about his team. 

“Impressive vocabulary,” Kenma commented dryly. “Are those technical terms?”

“Totally!” Hinata grinned. “I think they work best.”

Kenma snorted and waved for Shouyou to continue his detailed explanations. If he had to pick a font for the boy’s choice of words, it’d be Webdings.

“So you’ve been playing with some of those guys since high school?” Kenma asked after Hinata was done with his demonstrations.

“Only three of them; the rest went to other colleges but they still play and we meet up sometimes,” Shouyou replied. “You might have heard of them since they’re in our year. Kageyama Tobio, Tsukishima Kei, and Yamaguchi Tadashi.” 

Kenma swirled the last of his drink, now cold, in its cup. “Sounds familiar; still don’t think I’ve never met them however.”

“Tsukishima has a warped personality and Yamaguchi hangs out with him all the time but isn’t mean. Kageyama looks angry but he can be nice,” Hinata quickly described. 

Kenma had opened his mouth to ask a question when he noticed Kuroo at the register. It shouldn’t be any of his concern but the man seemed upset. He didn’t smile at the baristas and even his cock’s comb of hair seemed wilted. Shouyou noticed Kenma’s hesitation and turned around to stare as well. 

“Do you know him?” he asked.

Kenma shook his head then paused and shrugged once. “I know his name is Kuroo and he usually orders like ten coffees because he’s usually in front of me in line,” Kenma explained. “I didn’t expect to see him today. He seems… droopy.”

“I think him and his… friend had a fight,” Hinata speculated, settling back into the couch.

Kenma quirked an eyebrow. “Why the hesitation around ‘friend’?”

“I think they’re friends,” Shouyou said. “Some people say they’re dating? No one asked them and they never confirmed or denied anything so it’s a bit of a mystery.”

“Who’s his friend?” Kenma asked, curiosity piqued by the gossip. 

“Tsukishima, a middle blocker on my team. Kuroo plays, too, but for a different team, of course. He drops by our games and practices sometimes.” Hinata furrowed his eyebrows. “I never saw them so anything couplely but I also don’t see them very often. Tsukishima is kind of an ass even on good days. Come to think of it, he’s been even more moody recently at practices.”

Kenma hummed a response, unable to think of anything to say. 

“I suppose they work well. They’re both really sarcastic and kind of mean. Like Kuroo always knows how to push people’s buttons during games.” Shouyou pursed his lips in contemplation. “He doesn’t mean it like Tsukishima does, though, and always apologizes after.”

“That sounds… irritating,” Kenma commented.

“It is!” Hinata agreed. “It’s like, his jokes are kinda mean but you know he doesn’t mean them to be, well, _mean_. And he trains his team really hard sometimes but he just wants them to be fit for matches and I can feel that they’re grateful for that. There’s not really anything bad about him?”

“He’s annoyingly perfect,” Kenma snorted, only half in jest. 

“That’s probably it,” Shouyou concurred. “But I bet he has some annoying habit like snoring or stealing his roommate’s cereal.”

Hinata laughed and Kenma even let a rare giggle out. A comfortable silence spread between them as they tried to find some fault with Kuroo. His fashion sense maybe? A sudden beeping punctured the quiet. 

“Ugh, not this again!” Hinata groaned, taking out his phone. 

Kenma recognized the tune to be that silly “It’s a mystery” song. He raised his eyebrows in question.

“Last practice, someone went into the club room and changed my ringtone and contact names to this stupid song. Even the contact pictures to that ghost! Who even has the patience to do that?” Hinata complained while Kenma covered his giggle with a hand, biting back the obvious pun.

“I never know who’s texting me!” Hinata dragged a hand down his face in annoyance before the little ditty played again.

“Has the mystery been solved?” Kenma asked, amused.

“Oh,” Hinata smiled. “It’s Kageyama. He wants to practice a bit more before the match tomorrow.”

“Where do you even get all this energy?” Kenma muttered. 

Hinata make a noncommittal noise as he tapped into his phone. Kenma noticed that his grin was smaller though no less sunny than usual. It was more like it was being directed at one thing instead of radiating around him.

With a small smile, Kenma said, “You can go on, you know; you don’t have to keep my boring ass company.” He stretched and amended, “I have essays to get started on anyways.”

“Really? Thanks, Kenma,” Hinata exclaimed and hugged Kenma, much to his surprise. He smelled faintly of citrus, beeswax, and honey. “We can meet up again later. See ya at the match!” He waved as he ran out of the café.

Kenma relished the comfort of the couch a bit more before getting up to leave. His phone buzzed as he stood. It was Shouyou passing on the details of where the match was since he had forgotten to say in person. Kenma exhaled not unhappily. Is this what having a social life was like?

 

~.~

“Kenma-san, I’m going to the library to study with Yaku,” Lev announced, grabbing his backpack. 

Kenma hummed in acknowledgement and flipped the page in his textbook. Lev bid him farewell and left. Kenma noticed that he had been eyeballing the edge of the DDR mat that he had oh-so carelessly left partially visible. Kenma had relented and let him play the dancing game again, but Lev was still a bit wary to indulge himself in it while Kenma was studying or annoyed. Since Kenma was studying chemistry, his most detested subject, Lev had made a good choice in slipping out. 

As a neuroscience major, disliking chemistry was kind of counterproductive but Kenma suffered through it in hopes of at least understanding the material. A notoriously crappy high school teacher had left him scarred in the subject and he was still weary of the class though he seemed to be doing well. At least, for now. Kenma would see how well he actually comprehended the material on his next test. 

An hour later, he sighed and closed the book, dropping it on the floor. _Closer to hell, where it belongs,_ Kenma thought bitterly. His brain had absorbed all the molecule structures and theories it could. He collapsed back on his bed, exhausted. _I deserve some sort of reward for enduring that torture,_ he reasoned. Sitting up, he dug around his wallet for some change and his key. A chocolate bar was the perfect payment for this situation. Since the vending machine was just down the hall, he opted to leave his phone. It’s not like he can get locked out. Hopefully. 

He snuck out into the hallway, footsteps silent on the carpet. A handful of people puttered about, either coming back from places or heading to the showers. He treaded his way to the vending machine. It was at the end of the hallway where not many people went, which was all the better for Kenma. If he had to converse with anyone, he swear he’d lose it because he was so encumbered with chemistry. 

Selecting the largest candy bar available, he fed the machine his coins and hit the corresponding buttons. The twisted wire holding the precious substance turned, freeing the treat. However, it did not turn enough and the candy bar got stuck halfway in the coil. Kenma groaned and hit the machine. The candy shook but did not drop. He tried to shake the machine but the candy only rocked, tantalizingly out of reach. 

Kenma glared at the leering cow on the wrapper. He weighed his options. He could get help but he was not feeling up to talking to anyone, especially over this menial incident. The other choice was to try to grab with through the flap opening. It was in the bottom row so it shouldn’t be too hard for Kenma’s skinny arms to reach. 

Getting on his knees, Kenma stuck his arm up to the elbow through the window. His wrist knocked onto the plastic window and his forearm rubbed against the other coils and candy. It was a little further than he had expected and he had to twist awkwardly to grab the Kokokringle bar but he managed without much pain. The dilemma was getting his arm out. He had managed to contort his arm to fit but now could not untwist it to remove it. 

“Are you fucking with me,” he muttered, rotating his arm this way and that in attempts to slide it back out. 

He could manage to remove some of his arm but then the angle caused his forearm to get stuck. He started panicking and violently shook his arm around, bruising and scratching it. He tried to bear the pain of simply pulling his arm out but couldn’t do it. Kenma moaned loudly and thumped his forehead against the machine. 

“Of all the things to happen,” he sighed. 

He heard footsteps approaching and his panic heightened. In a moment of thoughtlessness, he scrambled to hide beside the machine, embarrassed to be in such a position. However, his arm was still quite visibly, and physically, trapped.

“Are you some kind of new addition to the vending machine?” an annoyingly familiar voice asked. Kenma could practically hear the smirk. 

“Yes, I am here to lure people into buying something, no escape,” he snapped, not turning. Maybe the shadow would hide the red spreading across his cheeks. 

“With those looks, I’d be lured any day,” Kuroo replied.

“Yeah, into hell.” 

“Consider me there.” Kuroo barked a single laugh. It was bitter, nothing like his normal charming chuckle. Then, ignoring both their biting tones, he asked more gently, “Would the siren of the vending machine like some help?”

Kenma huffed, annoyed that the universe would do this to him and replied, “Yes, if you can.”

Kuroo fished around his bag and pulled out a small bottle. “All I’ve got is hand sanitizer. Do you think it’ll work?” he asked, holding up the little container. It was sugar cookie scented.

Kenma sighed, “Better than nothing.” He rolled up the sleeve of his hoodie to the elbow so the liquid wouldn’t stain it.

The bottle popped open with a small squeak and Kuroo squeezed a small amount onto Kenma’s arm. Most of it slid off and dripped down the machine.

“The next person to use this machine is going to be in for a surprise,” Kenma commented, wriggling his arm.

Kuroo snorted. “It’ll probably be cleaner than ever. They should thank us.” 

Kenma kept a wry grin from spreading on his lips. A bit more wiggling and bit of pain later, his arm was free. 

“Thank you for helping,” Kenma said, rubbing his arm, both to dry it and to ease the discomfort. 

“It’s nothing,” Kuroo waved the formalities away. “I wasn’t going to just leave you here like that.”

Kenma nodded. “Well, then see ya.” He started to move away, ready to drown his embarrassment in crappy video games. Dance Dance Revolution was calling him to top his high scores in all of the Lady Gaga songs.

“Wait!” Kuroo burst out. He bent over and swiped something out of the machine. “You forgot your prize,” he said with a cheeky grin and held out the Kokokringle bar.

“Oh. Thanks,” Kenma said, surprised, and took the proffered candy. He wanted to forget what just passed so badly that he had forgotten his original reason for even coming here.

“No problem. Later, pudding head,” Kuroo said, escaping before Kenma could tell him off for using the nickname.

Kenma shuffled back to his dorm, the faint smell of false sugar cookies filling his nostrils. The rare Pepes on the door seemed to be laughing at him. Once away from prying eyes, he crumpled in bed and groaned. Why must he suffer his kind of embarrassment all the time? First being locked out, now getting his hand caught in a vending machine of all things. How lame was he?

The thing that annoyed him the most was his rescuers. How dare they be so kind as to help him. That aside, he blessed their souls for helping him without too much commotion. The last thing Kenma wanted was a huge scene. Not only that but they were both rather attractive, though in different ways. It felt like a bad Disney movie with Kenma being the lost and clumsy princess and the other boys as his prince charming. Kuroo definitely fell under the “dark and sexy” villain category while Hinata was somewhere in the “cute” and-

Kenma cut off those thoughts right there. He didn’t need rescuing of any sort. Thinking such fanciful, romantic thoughts would only accentuate these feelings. They weren’t strong but they not something Kenma wanted even in the slightest. Such things only led to awkward situations and rejection. After hearing about so many unrequited confessions, Kenma wanted to avoid romance. 

After thoroughly scrubbing his arm of the saccharine hand sanitizer, he decided to find a distraction to keep his mind from wandering. It was too late to go to the arts building to play cello. Playing in his dorm was out of the question because the room was not soundproof in the least and Kenma was worried about having others hear him play, especially hear his errors. Spying the DDR mat, Kenma’s chosen poison was beating Lev’s high scores on DDR in the Lady Gaga and Beyoncé songs. After a draining fifteen minutes, Kenma flopped onto his bed, the exhaustion in his body finally overpowering his thoughts. 

 

~.~

The wind whipped Kenma’s bleached hair into a nebulous cloud around his head, the odd strand finding its way into his mouth. He sniffled, the cold causing his nose to run. While it was a chilly day, his double layer of hoodie and jacket kept him warm. He was walking to the gym that Shouyou’s match was going to be held. 

A stray cat sat on a rock, licking its paws daintily. Kenma slowed down and stuck a cautious hand out. The cat looked up but stayed fixed in its spot. He clicked his tongue and wiggled his fingers, crouching down to appear less intimidating. The feline got up and considered the offer. Kenma scooted closer, cooing at the cat. It looked at him with that judgmental feline expression and strutted away. Kenma sighed and kept walking.

In high school, he used to volunteer at the animal shelter. He cleaned cages and fed the animals while someone else worked the desk. He enjoyed the times when he could play with the pets, especially the cats. He’d stroke their fur in his free time or slip them treats. He managed to not get too attached as most young animals were adopted quickly. The young college student missed working there but he did not miss having to see old animals spend day after day of being passed up for younger ones. Those moments hurt his heart. 

Shaking his those thoughts away, Kenma paused at the entrance of the gym, checking to make sure it was the right one. Someone had obviously turned on the heaters inside so Kenma shed his jacket but opted to keep the hoodie. The match wouldn’t start for another fifteen minutes so the teams had started warming up. Some practiced setting and receiving while other stretched their legs or ran drills to loosen up. The squeaks of sneakers rebounded across the gym and mixed with the booms of balls slamming into the ground. 

Kenma searched the athletes for Shouyou. He finally spotted the familiar mess of orange hair leaping up to hit someone’s toss. Kenma walked to the net, careful to stay out of everyone’s way. 

“Kenma, you came!” Shouyou exclaimed, running closer while waving at his friend. 

Kenma nodded slightly, wary to enter the confusion of everyone practicing and running about. The one that had been tossing for Hinata stood a ways back, looking intimidating. Shouyou introduced them properly and the two boys waved and spoke their pleasantries. Kenma felt awkward and out of place but thankfully Hinata filled the silence before it could get too uncomfortable. 

“I’ll be right back, Kageyama,” Shouyou called back and the setter nodded in acknowledgment. 

“Was that the setter you were going on about yesterday?” Kenma asked.

Shouyou chuckled and scratched behind his neck. “Yep, that’s the one. We used to be rivals as primary school kids but now we’re pretty close,” he said.

Kenma nodded. He watched Kageyama out of the corner of his eye. The boy was easily hitting serves to their libero. He seemed calm whereas Hinata was practically vibrating with nerves and excitement. 

“So we’re gonna start in a couple minutes so you better look for a seat somewhere, not that that many people showed up,” Hinata babbled, easily guiding Kenma around the court, despite the mayhem. 

“Who’s your opponent?” Kenma asked, flinching as someone hit a spike not five feet from him. Shouyou didn’t even bat an eyelash. 

“Them.” Shouyou pointed to the other side of the court. “We’re named after our dorms. They’re Nekoma and we’re Karasuno.” Hinata pointed proud at himself and his teammates.

Kenma looked over the other team. Their average height seemed higher than Karasuno thought their spikes didn’t seems as powerful. Lev was apparently on their team. He missed most receives but still seemed pretty proud of himself. His teammates did not feel similarly. 

Eyes drifting over the scene, Kenma spotted a very recognizable mess of black hair near the bench, chatting with someone. Kenma inhaled very deeply. It was Kuroo. Kenma still wasn’t over the incident from yesterday but here was the chance that he might have to interact with that man again. _Why me? Why now?_

“They might look tough but we’re going to win this match,” Shouyou announced confidently, completely unaware of Kenma’s sudden uneasiness. 

They silently watched the other team practice for a few moments. Lev was up to spike, much to his excitement. The ball hit the setter’s fingers and the Russian started running, his long legs quickly covering the court. A few feet from the net, the ball hit the peak of its arch and he jumped and swung. His hand made a satisfying smack and the ball went ricocheting into the ground. However his aim was a little off and the libero couldn’t save it in time.

“Watch out, Kenma!” Shouyou yelled as the ball hit the ground barely a foot from them and rebounded.

Kenma ducked and was feeling pleased to have moved so fast. He spun around to see where (or to whom) the ball was headed next.

And then it hit him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im gonna throw myself in the ocean for that last pun
> 
> Also, I have actually gotten stuck in a vending machine. There were a lot more tears and no hot volleyball captains came to save me with over priced and pungent hand sanitizer. 
> 
> I have about the next 2 or 3 chapters planned?¿ I'm laughing manically as i sort them out huehuehuehuehuehue
> 
> IF YOU KNOW WHAT A KOKOKRINGLE BAR IS, I LOVE YOU ALREADY
> 
> As usual, feedback is appreciated greatly! :3c


	3. I Can't Believe They Don't Deliver Pizza to Decorative Awnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo is an absolute nerd lord, kenma starts to question his life, and kagehina can't dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the reception of this fic! This is so exciting to me like I'm trying real hard on this one and I'm so happy my effort are paying off. Thank you all so much!
> 
> Also, the aureate is strONG in this chapter i am so pretentious sa ve mE
> 
> bless [raviolli](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Raviolli/pseuds/Raviolli) for editing my shitty english and weird phrasing and adDING HUNDRED OF MEMES AND PICTURES TO MY FICS

Kenma sat up and black clouded the edges of his vision. He felt like his brain was floating away as he swayed. He was the pinnacle of health. 

“Kenma-san, are you okay?” Lev asked worriedly. “Holy crap, I’m so sorry!”

The semi-blonde blinked and focused on the face in front of him. Lev’s sharp features cleared up like his brain switched from 240p to 1080p. All the better with which to glare at him.

“I didn’t know the ball would go that way and when you ducked I thought you’d be okay but it rebounded off the wall and oh my god I’m so sorry!” Lev babbled, gesticulating wildly, long arms almost hitting Kenma. 

Shouyou shoved him aside, getting into Kenma’s personal space. “Are you alright Kenma? Your nose is bleeding.” He was practically shouting, his thin eyebrows furrowed. 

Kenma reached up and touched his nose. He flinched from the pain. _Fuck._ He examined his fingertips and found them covered in blood. 

Lev’s friend Yaku shoved the babbling idiots aside and reached towards him with a tissue, gently patting his mouth. Kenma could taste the copper of his own blood and realized his lip was split as well. Yaku tapped too close to his nose and Kenma recoiled. 

“What happened exactly?” Kenma inquired, taking the soiled tissue from Yaku to gently press it onto his nose. 

Lev took a breath and Shouyou was prepared with a whole new vocabulary to describe the scene but Yaku waved them silent. Kenma had talked to Yaku a few times and heard enough about him from Lev to know he had a mother complex. He was always prepared for anything, carrying a first aid kit, snacks, condoms, phone chargers; you name it, it was in his backpack. He even carried hard candies. However, he also dished out shade like it was a summer day and wasn’t afraid to sass others when they got on his nerves.

“Lev hit a spike and you managed to avoid it but it hit the wall and bounced back,” he explained. “You were close to the floor anyways but I think you blacked out for a second.”

Kenma swore. The pain in his nose was becoming sharper and he couldn’t breathe right without the air hurting his nostrils. It probably wasn’t broken was it still hurt immensely.

“Where are you?” Yaku asked seriously.

“The gym,” Kenma stuttered. “To watch a volleyball match?”

“What’s your name?” he continued.

“Kozume Kenma,” Kenma replied, confused. He could have sworn he has introduced himself to Yaku before.

The short boy continued his barrage of basic questions like “What day is it?” “When’s your birthday” “Who’s your roommate” along with a couple simple maths questions. Kenma realized by then that Yaku was testing to see if he a concussion. Once satisfied with his interrogation, Yaku sat back and crossed his arms.

“You didn’t hit your head hard so you should be alright but I want you to rest for a couple days,” he prescribed.

Afraid to argue with the small man, Kenma nodded mutely. He pulled the tissue away, checking if the flow of blood had stopped. Thankfully, it had though he could still smell metal. Yaku nodded and shooed everyone away. 

“Everything is fine. We can continue the match now,” he announced. 

The crowd cleared away. Some looked back, worried, but those on his team trusted Yaku’s judgment. Lev apologized profusely until Yaku kicked him in the shins. Shouyou stayed as well, walking him to his seat. All the while he babbled about what happened, using sound effect and hand gestures to describe it.

“If you start feeling bad, just wave someone over; they’re all going to be watching you anyways,” Shouyou said, fidgeting. He had snagged a spare water bottle from his manager and gave it to Kenma.

Kenma nodded. That idea comforted him but also terrified him. It was embarrassing enough to have been hit in the face with a volleyball but now he had an audience. _Spectacular._

Hinata waved at him as he run to join his teammates for the commencement of the game. After the formal greeting and captains shaking hands, the got into their positions. Both teams played well, playing up their individual strengths. It was an interesting match since one could say they were badly paired. Karasuno relied on strength and surprise while Nekoma kept calm and adapted quickly. 

After almost reaching a deuce, Nekoma won the first set with a service ace by Kuroo. Karasuno did not look pleased but the loss only made them work harder the next set. Kenma thought they were going to lose after Hinata served the ball into Kageyama’s head (he looked positively terrifying) but next rotation they brought in Yamaguchi to pinch serve. He managed to boost the team moral by scoring them a few points before switching out again. Karasuno ended up taking the second set. Kenma cheered quietly and waved to Shouyou, who jumped on his teammate’s back with excitement. 

Kenma thought they would be worn out by the time the third set started but both teams continued to fight with vigor, only a few slip-ups to mark their exhaustion. Hinata and Kageyama’s super quick was stopped by Inuoka but Karasuno managed to use that to their advantage to score with other players. Kenma noticed Nekoma took many points from blocking rather than spiking. Lev still managed to get a few spikes in though he missed almost an equal number. Both teams were quite skilled so they hit thirty points before Karasuno managed a break and won. 

Karasuno huddled and slapped each other on the back, wide grins and whoops of victory echoing in the gym. Shouyou tried to give Tsukishima a high-five only to be outright ignored. Yamaguchi smacked his friend on the back and laughed, indulging Hinata in his antics. Nekoma was understandably quiet. Some sat on the floor while other covered their faces with their hands and groaned. Lev bent over and punched the ground. Yaku had tears in his eyes but tried to comfort his teammates. Kuroo looked disappointed by otherwise impassive. _I suppose the captain has to keep strong for everyone else during these types of moments._

The whistle rung out and both teams lined up to officially thank each other. After the formalities, the managers and teams quickly cleaned up their things and left, leaving the court ready for the next match. Kenma followed them into the hallway and trailed behind the successful crows.

“Congratulations,” Kenma said once he located Shouyou. He could practically feel the ebullience emanating from everyone.

“Thanks! That match was amazing!” he enthused. “We usually lose to them but I guess all our practicing paid off finally.”

Kenma smiled. One of Shouyou’s teammates came up and put a hand on his shoulder, congratulating him. He was proud of his friend. He wished he could celebrate with them but didn’t feel included. After all, he wasn’t the one on the court. It was better if they all had fun and laughed; Kenma would just be an intrusion. Plus, his nose really hurt.

“Shouyou, I’m going to go, okay?” Kenma said after the man left. “Have fun celebrating with your team.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Hinata asked. “It’s totally fine like, the more the merrier.”

Kenma shook his head, wincing at the pain it brought. “It’s your victory. You go and have fun. Besides, my nose kills. I’d be complaining all night.”

Shouyou pursed his lips but consented. He gingerly hugged his friend goodbye before the two went their separate ways. Kenma passed a different part of the hallway where Kuroo was speaking to his team. He was wrapping his speech up but Kenma could hear that he was trying to cheer them up. They disbanded, groups of two or three walking away. Kuroo turned around and laid eyes on Kenma.

“Hey,” he greeted. “Is your face alright?”

Kenma pressed a couple fingers to his lips. “It doesn’t hurt as much anymore but I feel like it’s going to hurt for a while.”

Kuroo gave a lopsided grin. “It will. I can assure you from my own experiences from receiving with my face.”

Kenma pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. “Nice to know I’m not alone.”

“However, I didn’t black out or have to sit out,” he bragged casually. 

“Well, pardon me for not being as strong and athletic as you,” Kenma said, a tinge sourly.

“You think I’m strong?” he remarked. “It must be my stunning muscles.” He gestured dramatically to his arms.

Kenma rolled his eyes. 

“Say, do you want to take a walk?” Kuroo offered. “I’ve got nothing much to do for a while.”

Kenma bit his lip and instantly regretted it, as the new skin over his injury was thin and painful. He winced and tasted blood.

“The cool air helps; the blood clotting generates a lot of heat,” Kuroo said, sticking his hands in his pockets. “It’ll also take your mind off the pain.”

“Shouldn’t you be with your teammates?” Kenma asked warily. “They looked rather stricken.” Kenma wasn’t familiar with what happens when a team loses but he figured that they might at least stay together.

“I will be; just in a while,” Kuroo answered. “They work almost flawlessly as a team but defeat tends to make them belligerent. I let them shout or run or whatever for a while after losing so they get all those emotions out before we can recoup and review.” 

Kenma raised his eyebrows and hummed. What was a very captain-y thing to say. _He must know his team very well despite looking so aloof._

Kenma nodded, agreeing to Kuroo’s offer, and walked towards the exit. Kuroo, ever the gentleman, held the door for him. The cold air hit him and caused his hair to blow back. He squinted and settled it back down. His injuries felt better just like Kuroo had said. 

“So what are you majoring in?” Kuroo said once they were outside. 

“Neuroscience for now,” Kenma replied. “What about you?”

“Lev once told me he was hiding from you because you were nearly failing chemistry,” Kuroo pointed out, ignoring Kenma’s question. “He said the look you get thinking about it is terrifying.”

Kenma paused, corner of his lip pulling down. “He’s not wrong. I hate chemistry. The idea of it is interesting but I can’t comprehend it to save my life.”

“Doesn’t that make neuroscience a bad match?” Kuroo inquired with a wry look.

Kenma took a deep breath. “It’ll work out.”

Kuroo raised his eyebrows but didn’t press him further. “I’m studying music, to answer your question.”

This piqued Kenma’s interest and he turned to Kuroo.

He grinned and added, “I want to compose scores for movies.”

He looked at the night sky above him. The artificial light of the street lamps made his face look harsh though he looked perfectly at ease, his eyes searching for the ghosts of stars. He was fully absorbed in a galactic ambedo. It was melancholic to think of space, knowing that what one sees now may in real time be gone but so distance that it’s light projects a copy of life.

“Most people don’t ever think of the music in films,” he continued as if speaking to the stars. “But it’s so important. It creates the mood. You can completely change a scene if you change the music. If you change the notes to a minor scale or even just quaver the descending notes a bit, a song can go from cheery and optimistic to sorrowful. I think it’s an incredible talent to be able to influence people with such minor changes that they don’t even realize it.”

“But isn’t it depressing if you never get recognized for what you do?” Kenma asked, curious. He was impressed that such a “cool guy” like Kuroo would have such passion for a profession that wasn’t glamorous and in-your-face. 

Kuroo shrugged. “Sunrises are gorgeous spectacle but most of its audience is asleep. That doesn’t stop the sun from ever rising or hinder its beauty.”

“That’s strangely uplifting,” Kenma commented, an amused grin threatening to escape.

Kuroo smiled genuinely, not that lopsided thing he gave everyone without thinking. It was quite pleasing. 

“I’m also minoring in English so I won’t need translators,” the taller man added. “I’m not very good at it yet but it’s important so I keep trying. Kinda like you in chemistry, I guess.”

“Something like that,” Kenma mumbled, kicking a stray rock. His desire to do well in chemistry had everything to do with his parents’ expectations of him and nothing to do with any kind of passion or adoration.

“You, know, few people know this, but I actually have a degree in cosmetology, too,” Kuroo laughed.

Kenma quirked a grin. “Why did you bother with that?”

He took his hands out of his pockets and put them behind his head, his breaths leaving thin clouds of condensation and words. “I tried to work in every part of movies and plays to get experience. I was a terrible actor and couldn’t remember everything to be a director. I have a terrible singing voice, as well,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Positively shocking,” Kenma said. “Your fanclub would be so disappointed to hear that.”

Kuroo feigned despair. “They must never know; it will break their fragile hearts.” 

“You weren’t kidding when you said you can’t act.”

Kuroo held a hand over his heart, a smirk fighting to break through his quailing character. “Kenma, how you wound me.”

The semi-blonde was amused but kept his smile away. _Best to not fuel his ego,_ he thought. “Get on with your story, Leonardo Dicaprio.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes and tried to pat down his hair. It didn’t work but he continued his tale. “I once watched my friend do prosthetics and thought it was cool and made them show me how to do it. Eventually, I ended up in a cosmetology course so I could learn more.” He spread out his arms in an I-don’t-understand-either-but-that’s-the-truth manner.

Kenma let out an incredulous laugh. He felt eumoirous and it was wonderful and rare.

“What?” Kuroo asked, laughing as well.

“Everyone thinks you’re so cool and haughty but here you are spouting John Lennon quotes and prattling about music and theater,” Kenma clarified. “It’s not what I expected.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Kuroo inquired, leaning in.

Kenma tried to keep his features neutral. “Not necessarily.”

Kuroo looked pleased as a box of cats. The old library bell rung. The tintinnabulation echoed on the other buildings. It stopped after the seventh bell. 

“Seven o’clock already? I’ve got to get back to my team now but,” Kuroo paused, reaching into his jacket. He pulled out his phone then frowned. “It’s dead.”

“You can borrow mine,” Kenma found himself saying. He handed over the device. Kuroo typed quickly. 

“I just sent a message to the vice captain to start rounding up the delinquents,” Kuroo said, handing back the phone. “Didn’t mess with your anime lock screen or anything.” He directed a cheeky grin to the small blonde.

Kenma took a sudden interest in the sky and picked at the edge of his hoodie. “It’s actually a video game,” he mumbled. 

“Then maybe you can introduce me to it some other time,” Kuroo said, stepping away. “For now, I have to collect the broken souls of my team.”

“Just don’t step on the pieces as you pick them up,” Kenma said, waving as Kuroo darted away. He waved back quickly before disappearing around the corner.

Kenma noticed he was near his dorm. He noticed Kuroo had a very nice back. He noticed his heartbeat had picked up during that conversation. He noticed that he was looking forward to seeing Kuroo again.

_Shit._

 

~.~

Kenma unlocked his dorm room and Lev let out a noise so high-pitched it would rival the piccolo.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before Lev,” Kenma sigh, shutting the door.

His roommate was standing in front of the closet in only boxers. He clutched a shirt to his chest in a meek attempt to cover up. The tips of his ear turned red at the memory Kenma was alluding to. 

When they first moved in together, they were both very aware of each other and never changed while the other was in the room. Two weeks later Kenma had walked in of Lev jacking off. He had obviously left quickly as possible, eyeballs seared but now partial nudity didn’t even miff Kenma anymore. He honestly never wanted to see his roommate like that. He didn’t even want to think of it. And now that image was burned into his brain. _Why must I suffer so._ At least Kenma didn’t have to make the trek to the communal washroom to change his outfit anymore. 

“You should put something on though; Shouyou’s going to come over in a few,” Kenma announced, lying back on his bed, half because it was comfortable, half because he didn’t want to look at Lev half-naked.

“Don’t worry, Kenma-san,” Lev said with a grin. “I’m just finding some clothes to go eat lunch with Yaku.”

Kenma hummed questioningly but didn’t move and Lev didn’t explain. He only sung under his breath as he got ready. He was slipping a scarf around his neck with someone knocked. Kenma rolled off the bed but Lev was already at the door. 

“Hi Hinata! I’m just leaving but Kenma’s on the floor,” Lev chirped before sliding past the smaller boy. “Have fun!”

“Bye Lev?” Shouyou called down the hall in confusion. “Where is he going?”

Kenma got up off the floor and went to attend to his guest. “He has a date with Yaku,” Kenma said vaguely. He closed the door and showed Shouyou where to place his things.

“Oh! That’s great for him,” Hinata commented, shuffling in place. 

Kenma made a noncommittal noise and pointed out his stash of video games to Shouyou. “Select your poison.”

Hinata bounded over to the collection and dug through the cases, pausing to examine the covers of the ones that caught his eyes. He ended up choosing a Naruto fighting game. They played battle after battle, laughing at their poor skills. Kenma won most matches by dint of familiarity with the game rather than any skill; one on one fighting games were not his forté. 

Kenma stayed seated and composed as he bashed the keys trying to make combination attacks. Hinata swayed around and even stood up, waving his arms around as if he were literally fighting. He was put off with his constant losing streak but was determined to win. He also enjoyed how Kenma looked like he was having fun; Shouyou didn’t see that expression on him often. 

They talked as they played, about everything and nothing. Kenma learned that Hinata had a sister that he cared for deeply and Shouyou learned that Kenma had a borderline dangerous love for apple pie. They traded bits and pieces of information in between beating up their characters. Sometimes it was very personal, like Kenma’s desire to please his parents even though he disliked their plan, to the menial, like Shouyou’s love of pork buns. Kenma mentioned his cello but adamantly refused to play for Shouyou in the dorm despite his pleas. He did _not_ need a greater audience than one to hear his mistakes and tunes.

Worn out from his fitful gaming method, Hinata collapsed on Kenma’s bed. The semi-blonde stayed hunched on the floor, his back against the bed. Shouyou rested his head at the foot of the bed so he could talk to Kenma. He was playing on his 3DS and gentle music arose from the small electronic.

“Whatcha doing?” Shouyou asked, looking upside down at the screen as he was hanging off the edge of the bed.

“Fixing up my town on Animal Crossing,” Kenma replied, tapping away. He suddenly groaned and threw his head back, dropping the device in his lap.

“Oh?” Shouyou asked, drawing out the vowel.

Keeping his head against the bed, he opened his eyes to look at Hinata. “Someone moved into my town and put their house right where I was going to make a path to my house.”

Hinata groaned sympathetically. “Try annoying them so they’ll go away.”

Kenma agreed and began beating his new neighbor with his bug-catching net. They seemed mostly unperturbed. Kenma wished he could just sweep up the character with his net and fling them into the cartoon sun. _Had they no appreciation for aesthetic beauty?_

As Kenma silently fumed, Hinata checked his phone, nearly dropping it on his face. Kageyama had sent him a text and he busied himself with that conversation. While the dark-haired boy looked serious and resolute, his texts used all abbreviations possible and he often misspelled things. Shouyou snorted at a particularly bad case of autocorrect.

“Who’s that?” Kenma asked, closing his 3DS. He was on hundred percent done with his townsfolk. Screw them and their lack of perception of order.

Hinata answered truthfully and smiled as his phone rung again. His ringtone was still the “It’s a mystery” theme.

“How cute,” Kenma replied.

“He is,” Shouyou said distractedly. 

That caused Kenma to raise his eyebrows. When Shouyou realized he had let that slip, the blood started rushing to his face. He stuttered and stammered, trying to recover himself. The clichéd explanation and blush gave away his real feelings. 

Kenma tilted his head and smiled softly. “Sure, Shouyou.”

“Don’t meme me!” the orange-hair boy exclaimed. 

Kenma knew it was a cheap shot but couldn’t resist and fought to keep a self-satisfied grin from spreading. They both knew Hinata was lying. He was a terrible liar but if he weren’t comfortable with it then Kenma wouldn’t prod him.

The blonde nodded, “Fine, then I believe you.”

Hinata chewed on his lip, looking guilty. He finally exhaled and looked at his friend. “How did you figure it out?”

Now it was Kenma’s turn to pause. “The way you look at him. It’s not just to study his skills or watch out for him. You look at him with… longing would be the best word. It’s really subtle but there’s a difference from how you look at him and how other teams do or other people he talks to,” Kenma tried to explain. “You just seem happier whenever he talks to you.”

Shouyou knit his eyebrows, trying to remember such scenes and examine his memories for any other hints of displaying his crush on his teammate.

“Like I said, it’s not really obvious unless you pay attention,” Kenma consoled. “And it’s not incredibly lovey-dovey all the time. You guys get angry at each other and yell, too.”

Shouyou looked relieved and nodded. “Do,” he started hesitantly. “Do you think he likes me back?”

Kenma took a moment to evaluate Kageyama. His facial expressions were difficult to read and Kenma didn’t see him directly very much. From his third person perspective, he could tell that he cared about Hinata’s wellbeing. He scolded Hinata wherever he pushed himself too hard and they often studied together. 

Kenma chose his words carefully. “I think it’s not out of the realm of possibility that he reciprocates your feelings but I can’t speak for him.”

“What do you think I should do?” Hinata asked with a worried expression.

“Tell him? Drop some hints or something?” Kenma suggested warily. He’s had approximately 0% experience with these types of matters. “He’s been your friend a long time so I doubt he’d just cut you out of his life so fast.”

Shouyou fidgeted but agreed. Kenma offered to play a game, using DDR as a suggestion. He knew his friend would brood over the issue too much and that he couldn’t stay still for long. Dance Dance Revolution would take care of both of those problems and, since Shouyou was more athletic, winning might boost his spirits.

Hinata quickly agreed and kicked Kenma’s butt at the game and almost in real life with his exaggerated movements. Kenma was embarrassed to dance in front of his friend but sucked it up since Shouyou looked more free and happy after a couple rounds. Kenma figuratively pat himself on the back for cheering up Shouyou successfully. 

Time passed quickly and soon Hinata had to leave for an evening class. He thanked Kenma for his time and gathered his things. Before he left, Kenma asked what type of class took place at seven in the evening.

“Samba dancing,” Shouyou admitted, rubbing his arm. “The coaches said my footwork was messy and that dancing would help. Kageyama takes it, too.”

Kenma smiled a little and said, “Have fun, Carmin Miranda.”

Shouyou stuck his tongue out at his friend and laughed as he waved and left. 

 

~.~

“I think I’ve lost feeling in my feet from you stepping on them so much,” Kageyama grumbled, walking down the stairs.

He and Hinata had just finished their samba class. Hinata took it to improve his reflexes and clean up his footwork. The ginger had managed to convince his friend to join him on the grounds that he “would be lonely and it’ll be boring without someone who can keep up.”

“It’s ‘cause your feet were in all the places where mine were supposed to go,” Hinata retaliated, jumping down the last few steps. 

“You were worse today than usual. Are you alright?” he asked sternly, squinting at his friend’s face.

Hinata quickly looked away. “I’m fine,” he said. He knew that wouldn’t be enough to appease Tobio so he added, “I just couldn’t stop thinking about a psychology quiz I have tomorrow.”

Kageyama wrinkled his eyebrows. “Well, get together for next time.” A pause. “Do you want help studying?” he added in a mumble.

“No! It’s fine, I’ve got it,” Hinata chirped. _Can’t really study for a fake quiz._

Kageyama huffed but didn’t argue. If his friend said he was alright, then he’d drop it. However, if Hinata failed, Kageyama was going to chew him out and quiz (read: interrogate) him until he knew the information. Tobio knew that the things Hinata was learning were important to his future and tried his best to support his friend. 

Hinata pushed open the door but didn’t walk out.

“Oi, dumbass, doors are meant to walk through, not block,” Kageyama said.

“It’s raining,” Hinata said, a dejected tone leaking into his voice. “I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

Kageyama sighed and reached into his backpack. He quickly produced a basic black umbrella. “We can share mine. We’re going to the same place, anyways.”

Hinata livened up. “Thanks, Kageyama!” He let Tobio walk out first before quickly following and ducking under the umbrella.

Kageyama brought up their recent practice match and they began discussing it. Hinata felt raindrops hitting his shoulder so he pressed closer to Kageyama. It was a simple movement but Hinata felt thrilled when Kageyama didn’t move away or throw him a caustic comment. They were continued their conversation quite normally. However, Hinata noticed that Kageyama jostled the umbrella too much, causing the rain to drip onto him.

“Stop jerking the umbrella; I’m getting all wet,” Hinata complained, straightening the parasol.

“I’m holding it fine, stopping trying to mess with it or I’m going to be in the rain,” Kageyama retorted, pulling the umbrella from Hinata’s grasp. The sharp movement caused the water stuck on the umbrella to shake onto Hinata’s back. He swore and lurched away.

“What the hell, don’t you know how to hold an umbrella,” Hinata snapped. He tried to rub the water off but it had soaked through his hoodie.

Kageyama wrinkled his face. “I’m doing it right. It’s the proper etiquette that the taller person holds the umbrella anyways.”

“Well, you’re doing a shitty job,” Hinata grumbled.

“Fine. Then you hold it,” Kageyama said, thrusting the handle at Hinata. The sudden motion caused water to spill down Kageyama’s back just like Hinata had suffered a moment ago. He gasped loudly at the sudden cold. 

Hinata laughed, “That’s what you get for being such a butt.”

Kageyama shot him daggers. 

Hinata rushed to remedy the situation. “Here, hold my arm.” The taller boy grumbled but complied. This pressed them closer together (much to Hinata’s joy) but it also kept them both dry. The ginger also held it higher than usual so Tobio wouldn’t have to hunch over. 

They resumed their conversation, noting things about their team and the other and discussing ideas to improve. Though they were close enough to hear each other’s breathes, neither moved away. When they finally arrived at their dorm, they gruffly bid each other farewell and parted, each smiling thought the other couldn’t see. 

 

~.~

Kenma was walking back from the library when he felt the first drop. It hit him on the nose. He rubbed it away but soon felt another, this time on his arm. Then another and another. He ran towards the nearest building as it began pouring. 

He had hoped to make a quick run to the library to borrow some extra chemistry books in hopes of better understanding the damned topic so he didn’t bring a bag. He also had printed out some new sheet music off a sketchy website and somehow that felt of equal importance to not get ruined. _The sky was clear before I left,_ he whined, clutching the books and papers to his chest. They were old and worn and if they got ruined, Kenma would have to pay. Pay money that he didn’t have. Pay money that his parents wouldn’t loan him because they’d be too disappointed in him. 

He spotted a striped awning. It was small and probably decorative but it would do. Kenma bolted towards it, huddling around the books in hopes of protecting them. The second he stepped out of the rain, he stepped into someone. The air was forced of his chest and he would’ve fallen in a puddle if the person hadn’t pulled him back. 

“I know you must love me but that’s no reason to almost hurt yourself leaping into my arms,” Kuroo joked, the ever-present lopsided smirk on his lips.

Kenma widened his eyes in shock. _Of all the people to run into to._

“If you wanted to hang out, you could’ve just called. Such drastic measures are unnecessary, pudding head,” Kuroo said casually, waving his hand. 

“The only drastic thing here is your hair,” Kenma said snarkily.

Kuroo frowned slightly and self-consciously patted his head. “It just doesn’t stay down no matter what I try.”

Kenma sighed, faintly upset over accidentally hitting a sore spot so insensitively. He shuffled his feet and asked quietly, “So why are you stuck in this place?”

“I have a forty page paper in my bag and it’s not waterproof,” he sighed, watching as the rain fell heavier. “What about you?”

He lifted his books as an answer. “Thought it’d be quick so I don’t have a bag.”

They stood in a comfortable silence, watching the rainfall. The space under the awning was small so they had to stand close, arms brushing against each other when they took a deep breath. Kenma inhaled the wonderful scent of the rain and the smell of Kuroo mixed in. He smelt of cologne and coffee and fresh sweetbread.

“Do you think they’ll deliver pizza here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to a piano version of [ Unite Synchronization](http://aberrantkenosis.tumblr.com/post/33352848864/so-i-took-a-midi-of-unite-synchronization-and) for most of this and then during editing I discovered the magic of 8tracks about ships and I'm in deep
> 
> Every chapter I write is getting progressively longer and longer???? Idek????????????? Like I only plan like 2 or 3 scenes per chapter but like 5+k words????? ????¿¿¿¿¿???¿??¿¿???
> 
> A happy chapter to prepare y'all for the next one huehuehueheuhehue get the tissues
> 
> [hipster-yams](http://hipster-yams.tumblr.com) on tumblr if u wanna chat or yell at me to write faster
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


	4. That Wasn't Very Platonic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsukki ruins a romantic cello lesson and shit hit the fan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is reALLY long but splitting it would have resulted in two, abnormally short and incoherent chapters so i left it as one long, coherent chapter.
> 
> Also I have never played a string instrument in my life, please tell me if I've mucked something up. I am but a simple tenor saxophone
> 
> However, all the songs I choose are real and I highly recommend you look them up :3 
> 
> Also, many thanks to my editor [raviolli](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Raviolli/pseuds/Raviolli). I used so many stories you told while we were editing oops sorry
> 
> TW: alcohol btw

Kenma would have really loved to have been able to practice in his usual music room but someone had locked the door and very _suspicious_ noises leaked through the door. He had flushed and quickly walked away. He would never be able to look at his favorite music room the same way again. 

_What a day full of bad choices,_ Kenma lamented as he walked back down the hall. He ordered his usual latte in the morning and it had come out lukewarm. Sadly he had to deal with it, since he was running late to class. (He was late anyways.) For lunch, he tried a new pastry and subsequently found out he does not at all enjoy the taste of gingerbread. In a bad mood, he had purposefully goofed off during class, thinking he would get away with it but the professor noticed and reprimand him. Kenma hadn’t even intended to practice cello today but needed to relieve stress. So far that wasn’t working. 

After finding an unoccupied room, Kenma absorbed his new surroundings. It was slightly larger than the other room; it held about ten chairs with stands as opposed to two from the other room. The windows let in the late evening light and the heater hummed as it pumped in lukewarm air. There was a dusty upright piano in the corner and further inspection showed the lower c sharp key did not work. 

Kenma selected a stand from the mass in the corner, avoiding the ones with obscenities drawn on them, and brought it to a trio of chairs. The petite blonde set his case down and unzipped it to expose the beautifully worn wood of his violoncello, the remaining bits of luster reflecting the harsh artificial light that lit up the room. He also pulled out a basic cello workbook since he had a lesson in about twenty minutes. College kid gotta sustain his video game addiction somehow. 

Since he had time, Kenma retrieved his sheet music and pressed the crinkles out of it. It was the song he had printed off last week, the day he had gotten stuck under a tiny awning with none other than Kuroo Tetsurou. 

After they found out pizza men indeed do not deliver to such specific locations, they struck up chat to pass the time. Kuroo told a tale of the latest mishap in the theater department. The first night of “Shrek: The Musical” went surprisingly smoothly. However the second, one of the main characters forgot an entire scene. His fellow actors had to ad lib everything. Kenma could feel the second-hand embarrassment for the actor. Having everyone look at one awkwardly and confused during a live performance, as one fails to come up with the lines, must be humiliating. Incredibly amusing later but utterly mortifying while it happens. 

The topic slid to music and Kuroo commented about his composing. His latest piece seemed to be missing something though he couldn’t quite name it. Kenma suggested modifications to the music eventually admitting to playing the cello. Kuroo seemed curious to hear the blonde play but Kenma declined. Eventually, the rain cleared and they were allowed to return to their original tasks. 

However, the next day, Kenma received a text from “yo boi kuro.” It was Kuroo excitedly talking about a stray cat he had befriended. Apparently, that night Kuroo used Kenma’s phone to text his vice captain, he had also added his number to the semi-blonde’s phone. Kenma checked other settings on his phone but found them all fine. (Even his tacky yaoi game background was still there as Kuroo had said.) Kenma had replied to the text, annoyed that Kuroo had messed with his phone but amused with the conversation. 

Kenma settled in a chair, shuffling his music so his phone didn’t cover any notes he didn’t know. He and Kuroo had been chatting frequently via text so he wanted to keep an eye on his messages. He enjoyed having someone to chat to, even if it was about trivial matters. 

Kenma played a few scales to warm up, taking his time. Once satisfied, he examined his musical selection for the evening: Saint-Saëns’ [Le Cygne](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ffO-XlY0Xac) from the Carnival of the Animals. Kenma tapped his foot to find a tempo he liked then placed his bow over the strings. Slowly and quietly, he began to play. The notes echoed in the wooden body of the cello creating a wondrous, deep sound. He finished the song with only a few missed sharps and weak accents when his phone screen lit up. 

To: Kozume K.  
From: Trash Cat  
19:02

hey, you should let me listen to you play cello some time ;)

Kenma exhaled sharply through his nose. Despite Kenma declining to play for Kuroo, the music major continued to pester Kenma to hear a song or two. However, the pressure to sound good and _look good_ was a little much. Kenma knew he often pulled strange faces while playing and was very self-conscious of it. Even more so around Kuroo. Perhaps it was because the taller man always seemed photograph-ready or maybe it was his popularity but Kenma felt like he had to try harder around Kuroo. The other possible reasons behind that severely discomforted him. 

To: Trash Cat  
From: Kozume K.  
19:03

maybe some day when you stop being such a bother

Kenma switched his phone for a pencil and circled the sharps he missed, ensuring he wouldn’t miss them next time. Picking up the bow, he started again, playing a little slower than the music read in order to assure he would play the right notes. He had barely made it ten measures in when he heard a knock and the door hinges squeak. _My lesson isn’t supposed to start for another ten minutes, what the fuck._

“Can that some day be today?” Kuroo asked. He was leaning on the doorway with a smirk, looking annoyingly attractive. _Did he practice that pose in the mirror?_

“No, you’re still and probably forever will be a bother,” Kenma spluttered, confused. How the hell did Kuroo find him? “Also, that doorway is covered in gum.”

Kuroo jumped away from the frame, wiping his arm though nothing was on it. His “cool guy” air had been wiped away with a tiny white lie. Kenma smirked internally. 

“Ah, well, I’m your lesson,” Kuroo said, walking over to Kenma. “I mean, you’re supposed to teach me cello and the front desk said you’d be up here and I heard you playing so I stopped to listen.” He was babbling to try to recover from his moment of clumsiness and Kenma found it vaguely endearing.

Kenma squinted at Kuroo. “Did you sign up for cello lessons just to hear me play?”

“No, actually. I signed up at the start of the semester but no one was available till now,” Kuroo explained, scratching his the back of his neck. _Technically true. I don’t have to mention that I practically begged the music director to get Kenma as my instructor,_ Kuroo thought. _Nope, totally don’t have to mention that._

Kenma narrowed his eyes but nodded. They obviously both knew how the music lessons worked at their college. One signed up for lessons, either on a specific instrument or any, and when instructors became available, one would start lessons. Some instruments were more popular than others and had a wait list. Some, like in Kenma and Kuroo’s situation, simply had few instructors. 

“You’re still early,” Kenma pointed out.

“Fair,” Kuroo agreed. A sly smile crept across his lips. “Then, please, do keep playing until it’s time.”

“So that lesson of yours,” Kenma said breezily. He got up quickly and replaced his music with the workbook. He put his phone in the cello case and assumed an air of professionalism. Just because it was Kuroo didn’t mean he could slack off. Work was work.

Kuroo coughed to hide a laugh. “So then Kenma-sensei, how do we start?”

Kenma felt his neck heat up. “You don’t have to call me that,” he muttered. “And come sit over here.” He gestured to the chair in front of the music stand. 

Kuroo followed his orders, ever-present smirk on his face. Kenma handed him the bow but withheld the cello. 

“First, you have to learn how to how the bow right,” Kenma explained. “Hold it loosely near the end.”

Kuroo attempted as said but Kenma shook his head. “Try to use your fingertips rather than your whole hand,” he suggested. He tapped the side of Kuroo’s hand to move it up the bow and briefly touched his fingers to loosen their death grip on the poor tool. 

“If you wanted to hold my hand, you could have just asked,” Kuroo teased but followed Kenma’s advice. 

The semi-blonde looked away, letting his hair hide his face as blood rushed to it. _Shouldn’t I be used to his wisecracks at this point?_ “Just hold the bow, Kuroo,” he sighed. 

“Am I ready for the real thing now?” Kuroo asked, waving the bow around as if playing air cello. It looked more like he was trying to swat a fly away.

Kenma hummed and adjusted the endpin for Kuroo’s height. “Hold it slanted and use your knees to steady it. The lowest tuning peg should be around your ear,” Kenma described, cautiously handing over the instrument.

Kuroo carefully took the instrument. He clearly had experience with instruments by the way he handled it, even putting the scroll over his left shoulder without being told. He wasn’t as clueless as he was playing.

Frowning, Kenma kicked Kuroo’s feet wider apart; he was using his knees to grip the instrument rather than steady it. 

Kuroo opened his mouth to make a (probably dirty) comment but Kenma silenced him with a look. “If you make a joke, I swear to every god there is I will leave.”

Kuroo pressed his lips together and sat up straight. It had taken so much effort to get Kenma as an instructor and he had no doubts that Kenma would absolutely leave him if he pissed off the smaller boy enough. 

Once comported, Kuroo let Kenma show him the names of the strings and positions where his hand should be. It wasn’t unfamiliar to Kuroo since he played guitar but the setup was slightly different. However, Kenma was an excellent teacher. Though obviously annoyed at times, he would explain as many times as needed and quizzed Kuroo to ensure he was absorbing the information. 

Kuroo liked the way Kenma’s eyes lit up as he talked about music, digressing to speak about the cello and all the adventures it’s been on. _(Who knew Kenma had found it at a yard sale when his parents refused to buy him a larger one when he was younger?)_ The barest shifts in facial expression became noticeable to Kuroo as they chatted. He observed that Kenma’s eyebrow twitched when he was annoyed though his voice did not betray the emotion. Kuroo found it fascinating how he was able to notice these things. 

When learning the notes and positions, Kenma would point out which strings to press but Kuroo would purposefully miss. This would cause Kenma to put his hand over Kuroo’s and gently nudge his fingers into the correct places. 

Kenma knew he didn’t need to do that. It was probably a bad choice to do something as flagrant and obvious as that. But since he had started his day with bad choices, he might as well end it with bad choices. 

By the end of the lesson, Kuroo could draw out a few scratchy notes. Kenma nodded to himself, proud to have completed his job correctly despite Kuroo flirting with him every step and note. Not that Kenma didn’t also participate in some coquettish commentary himself. 

“Now that we’re finished, can you play for me now?” Kuroo asked innocently. “Your ears must be crying after hearing me wail away on your instrument.”

It was true that Kuroo’s playing could substitute the screeches of terror from a horror movie flawlessly, but Kenma was still hesitant. What if he froze up? What if he played wrong notes? What if he made a weird face while playing? What if his playing didn’t live up to Kuroo’s expectations?

Kenma’s silence didn’t go unnoticed by Kuroo. “I’m not going to make fun of you or anything if you mess up. I honestly just want to hear you play,” Kuroo said softly. 

Kenma bit his lip but picked up his cello. Once seated, he held the bow over the strings. Kuroo watched him expectantly, head slightly tilted in curiosity. Kenma scrunched his eyes shut and tried to picture the sheet music in his head. He chose a concerto for cello by Vivaldi, [RV 424](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aFUeJZmLM2Y) in B minor. Interesting and difficult enough to hopefully entertain his audience but familiar enough that Kenma felt confident he could play it well. 

Kenma carefully started playing, fingers gilding easily over the scroll of the cello. The notes flowed out of the instrument, the vibrato of the longer notes echoing in the small room. Kuroo watched as Kenma’s fingers flew over the strings but always landed in the correct places. He marveled at how Kenma’s bow arm tilted dramatically to slide over the right strings with the ease only those who play often have. Kuroo clapped when Kenma finished drawing out the last note. 

“That was amazing! I figured you were good but that was beyond what I expected,” Kuroo exclaimed. 

Kenma just frowned slightly. “I missed a few sharps.” _It was probably because I was so nervous,_ he thought. _Also, was that a back-handed compliment?_

“I’ll definitely be sounding like that by next week, you’ll see.” Kuroo winked. 

Kenma snorted. He began to put away his instrument and music. He had had enough of Kuroo’s flirting and didn’t want to stick around to see what would happen if he let himself fall further into Kuroo’s words. _A confident guy like that wouldn’t want a meek guy like me for anything other than maybe a hookup. I should just leave before I get myself into anything I can’t fix._

“I’ll walk you home,” Kuroo suggested, shrugging on his coat. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Kenma protested, picking up his case and towards the door.

Kuroo’s long legs quickly caught up with him. “It’s fine; I’m heading the same direction anyways.”

Kenma sighed. Kuroo took his lack of argument for agreement and walked alongside the blonde. He prattled on about his day and Kenma listened, making noises when it seemed appropriate. He actually enjoyed hearing about the trivial things Kuroo described and the amusing situations he caught wind of. Apparently he and a friend had gotten a known bully glued to a toilet seat, a feat he seemed rather smug about.

Kenma particularly liked when Kuroo would slip in details about himself; compared to what he knew about Kenma, what Kenma knew about Kuroo was small. Kuroo was telling a story about the time he had jumped to spike in volleyball and had gotten stuck in the net (how embarrassing and cute). Kenma smiled in amusement and switched his case to his other hand since it was getting tired.

“Oh, what sort of companion am I?” Kuroo said suddenly. “I should help you carry your case.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s not even that heavy,” Kenma replied.

“But I’m trying to impress you with my manners so you have to let me help,” Kuroo said, stopping. The evening wind ruffled his hair and coat. 

“Color me unimpressed with your sudden acts of chivalry,” Kenma deadpanned. He enjoyed the minor fuss Kuroo made over him but wasn’t about to tell that to his face. Kenma still had _some_ dignity left. Somewhere. 

Kuroo held his hand over his heart and dropped his mouth open in false affront. “But I’m always this kind,” he argued.

Putting his cello case down, Kenma looked Kuroo in the eyes. “Says the man who bothered me everyday until I played cello for him.”

“Call it suggestive persuasion,” Kuroo replied with a smirk, leaning over slightly. 

Kenma stood on his tiptoes to get closer to Kuroo in order to properly sass him. However, his mouth had other intentions. “Consider me persuaded then,” Kenma murmured. 

He hadn’t noticed when they had gotten so close but now Kuroo’s smirking face was only a few inches from his own. Kuroo’s dark eyes flickered down to his mouth. Kenma’s breath hitched in his lungs and his eyes half closed. He licked his lips before leaning a little closer. 

“Oi, Kuroo, your girl’s howling for you at home,” An annoyed voice called from down the path. “Did you forget to get her dinner?”

Kenma felt his heart fall out of his ass. His face paled. _Your girl. Oh shit._ Just as quickly as the blood left, his whole face flushed when he realized what an intimate position he and Kuroo were in. His reflexes took over. He shoved Kuroo away and stepped back so quickly his nearly tripped over his case. 

“Uh, I have to go now,” Kenma stuttered, grabbing his case and running. The last thing he saw was a shocked Kuroo falling into a bush while Tsukishima looked on with amusement.

_I have fucked up._

 

~.~

Hinata burst out of the cafeteria with a jump. Kageyama followed behind more calmly. He was eating an ice cream sandwich while Hinata slurped a Kitkat milkshake. The dining hall had a special on frozen treats and when the two volleyball players heard, they immediately raced to get their share. 

“It’s perfect. Like a celebration for doing so well on that test!” Hinata exclaimed.

Kageyama rolled his eyes. He was proud to have gotten one of the best scores in his classes along with Hinata, a rare occurrence for the both of them. However, Hinata noted that Kageyama seemed to be contemplating something all day. When he asked earlier in the day, Kageyama had yelled that he was stressed about the test scores. Now that they both knew and were consuming sugary frozen milk, Tobio still seemed tense.

“Is that cookie any good?” Hinata asked, eyeballing the gooey treat. When Kageyama got over himself and wanted to talk, then he would.

“Sure,” Kageyama shrugged. He held it out and asked, “Do you want to try some?”

Hinata eyed him suspiciously. Tobio was so distracted he actually agreed to Hinata’s mundane question. _Does it taste that bad that he just wants to get rid of it?_ Hinata questioned. He took a wary bite of the offered dessert. The vanilla ice cream had melded due to the hot cookie, which in turn absorbed the sweet liquid. It was a little soggy but it tasted scrumptious. 

Intensely apprehensive about his friend, he inquired, “Are you okay? You just let me eat your food; you never do that unless it tastes bad.”

Kageyama pressed his lips together. Hinata grew more fidgety the longer the silence stretched out. He watched Kageyama’s face for any trace of emotion to explain his silence. Hinata thought he looked handsome, even though his face was strained. The cold breeze caused them both to shiver.

“A girl confessed to me,” Kageyama announced. He was looking at his hands as if they held an answer. 

All of Hinata’s anxiety and curiosity blew out of him with his breath. He physically felt his stomach twist and turn and his heart stop.

“Do you like her?” Hinata managed to get out. 

A pause. “She’s nice. She seems genuine and honest. I guess she’s pretty, too.” Kageyama did not look at Hinata as he spoke.

Hinata swallowed thickly. His palms were sweaty despite being around his cold beverage. This was his chance. He was going to tell Kageyama. After all these years of sitting around and hoping his crush would go away or an even more vain hope of Kageyama confessing first, Hinata would finally be able to tell his friend the truth. 

“I think you should go out with her,” Hinata heard his hoarse voice say. Clearing his throat, he said with more energy, “It’ll be good for you! You’ve seemed kinda lonely lately anyways.” His voice sounded false and brash to his own ears.

Kageyama bit his lip. “If you think so,” he said, let the rest of his sentence fade away. 

“I’m sure it’ll turn out great!” Hinata tried to sound natural but could feel tears seeping into his eyes. “You’re a great guy. S-She’s lucky to get a guy like you.”

Kageyama tried to look Hinata in the eyes but their height difference did not work in his favor for once. Hinata could see him, though. His expression was a mix of emotions; worried, sad, hurt, but most painfully of all, pity.

“Uh, I promised Kenma I’d help him beat the next level of his game. Sorry, crap, I have to go,” Hinata babbled and backed away. He would not be able to maintain what vague composure he had left for long.

“Good luck with your girl!” Hinata shouted as he ran away. He refused to turn around and look at the pity on Kageyama’s face. He could take the other emotions but pity was the worst. It meant there was no hope of Kageyama reciprocating his feelings. Instead, the dark-haired boy looked down and felt sorry for Hinata. Shouyou wiped his eyes with his sleeve and ran. He wasn’t sure where, but anywhere away from Kageyama would do.

 

~.~

Kenma wrestled the door open and quickly shut it behind him. He just wanted to get away from everyone. The semi-blonde fell face first in bed, groaning loudly. _Why did I do that? Why am I so embarrassing? Ugh, gods why me. What did I do in a past life to deserve this?_

“Rough day?” Lev asked. 

Kenma didn’t even notice he was there. Great, now he had an audience to watch and judge him for his reactions to his failures. As if just messing up weren’t bad enough. Now Lev would probably barrage him with jokes and teasing. Normally, Kenma would be able to put up with it but right now, those remarks would probably break him. He just nodded into the pillow, hoping Lev would leave him be.

Lev sighed. “Same.”

Kenma looked up at him in surprise. No heckling or mocking?

“What happened to you?” Kenma asked cautiously.

“The coach said that I can’t be a regular in the next few matches. The ones this week was a test to see if I would do well but since we lost, even though one was a practice match, apparently they’re going to keep the rotation we have. I worked so hard just to get that chance to play a game,” Lev exhaled. “I guess no amount of practice is ever going to replace true talent.”

Kenma felt bad for him but couldn’t think of any comforting words. They both knew what he said was true so there was no use denying it. There was something people with natural aptitude exuded that just can’t be obtained with practice. Kenma opted to sit up and pat him on the shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Kenma lied. “It’s not the end of the world. You’re good at other stuff and in hindsight, nothing really matters in some grand universal sense.”

Lev looked at him. “I don’t whether to be comforted or terrified of what you just said.”

Kenma punched him on the shoulder. He didn’t bother to do it lightly because he probably didn’t have the muscle to actually hurt a guy Lev’s size. It managed to elicit a crooked grin from the Russian. 

“So what’s got you shouting into your pillow?” Lev asked, crossing his legs.

Kenma bit his lip. He was never good at voicing his personal feelings, let alone embarrassing ones he just wanted to forget already. Talking about emotions was like pulling teeth for him. 

“I said some weird things to a person I think I like,” Kenma managed to get out. 

“That’s it?” Lev inquired in surprise.

“I think he’s straight,” Kenma admitted quickly. “I also may or may not have shoved him into a bush and run away.”

Lev nodded gravely. “That’s rough, buddy.” 

Kenma dropped his head into his hands. “First of all, don’t you fucking quote ATLA right now. Second, I just want to forget about it but my mind keeps replaying that scene and I am going to scream.”

“I feel you.” Lev leaned back on his headboard and put his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. “I keep thinking about what I could’ve done better during the match. Where I should’ve paid more attention or taken an extra step or things I wished I hadn’t half-assed during practice,” he revealed.

“It’s so pointless, too. It already happened and no amount of regret or thinking will change it,” Kenma added. “This is depressing.”

Lev nodded in agreement, silent for once. They sat in the quiet, both dwelling on their individual mistakes. The scene played again and again in Kenma’s head, slight details changing until he wasn’t sure what was true and what his brain had created. He tried to think of other stuff but it always came back to ideas of things he could’ve done differently; a change of words, adding a pause, a look. It ranged from the minor to straight up ridiculous. Right as Kenma thought his thoughts would drown him, Lev spoke.

“Hey, I don’t have anything to help your love life or my volleyball career but I do have something that might help get it off your mind,” he suggested.

“At this point, I’d do almost anything to stop thinking about this; it’s literally eating me alive,” Kenma replied hoarsely but honestly. 

Lev stepped off his bed and walked over to their shared mini fridge. He moved some items aside, almost letting a pack of yogurt fall out. With a clink, he pulled out a bottle and presented it to Kenma. 

“I would have pegged you a vodka person, myself,” Kenma commented as Lev hunted around for some cups. 

“It’s a bit strong for my taste but I do have a few mini bottles if you prefer it,” Lev offered. 

“You know, they’re generally both the same proof,” Kenma said, nodding. 

“Really? Well, I think rum tastes better anyways.” Lev returned with two cups, the alcohol, and a can of soda. 

Kenma rolled his eyes. He twist open one of the little vodkas while Lev prepared his own concoction. Kenma discreetly sniffed his own drink. It didn’t smell of much. It was a higher end brand of vodka so it technically shouldn’t burn as much either. He had never had vodka but it seemed unimposing enough. He took a cautious sip. His features contorted.

“It tastes how rubbing alcohol smells,” he pronounced. It only burnt a bit but the flavor was horrible. 

“That why I prefer other drinks,” Lev pointed out. “Or at least mixing them with something else.”

Kenma made a noncommittal noise but filled a cup with the rest of Lev’s soda, dumping the vodka in after. He tried the mix. It tasted like Coca-Cola at first but the aftertaste gave away the extra ingredient. It was much more bearable though. 

They again sat in silence. Kenma still had the scene from earlier in the evening repeating in his mind but it was further away. Presently, the current scene amused him. He and Lev were sipping spiked sodas in their dorm in an attempt to drown out their botched lives. It all happened so calmly; it didn’t quite feel real. It was like he was going to wake up any moment, late to class and skipping breakfast as usual. But the burn left behind by his drink assured him this was actually happening. Kenma grinned.

“What are you smirking about?” Lev asked, knitting his eyebrows together. 

“This is so strange,” Kenma said simply.

The half-Russian paused, then sat back and nodded. “I can’t argue with that.”

Stillness filled the room again. Kenma shifted in his bed. _What do we do now?_ Kenma hadn’t actually ever gotten drunk. He didn’t know what the etiquette for this situation is and felt awkward. 

“So who was the mystery man you pushed into the bushes?” Lev asked, always the chatterbox. 

“I don’t think this is how you’re supposed to forget something,” Kenma deadpanned, disinclined to speak of the incident.

Lev moaned dramatically. “You’re just going to leave me in curiosity? That’s mean, Kenma-san!”

Kenma fidgeted with his cup. It was none of Lev’s business but Kenma also didn’t like bottling up all those feelings. Each secret added to the weight on his shoulders and before he knew it, it’d be a boulder and he would break. It had happened in the past and Kenma knew it would happen again unless he found way to deal with it.

“You know him,” Kenma hinted, not brave enough to name him. “He’s on your volleyball team.”

“Yaku?” Lev guessed.

Kenma snorted and declined that answer.

“Gimme another hint,” Lev demanded, swirling his drink around.

“He’s a middle blocker,” Kenma said. _That’s his position, right? I hope so._

“Eh, Inuoka? He looks like you two would get on well,” Lev conjectured.

“He seems nice but no,” Kenma replied.

Lev gasped and turned around. “Is it me?”

Kenma threw a pillow at him. “I didn’t shove you in a bush but I’m going to now.”

Laughing, Lev bat it aside. “Let’s see who else. I saw you talking to Kuroo and Fukunaga,” he drawled. He looked to Kenma for confirmation.

“I did talk to them, yes,” Kenma said as if he were talking to a two year-old.

“Kuroo did come back from the match last week looking awful pleased but it couldn’t be him,” Lev said, shaking his head.

“Why not?” Kenma said indignantly. 

“He’s like… cool. And,” he waved his hands around as if he could catch the word he wanted. “Trash.”

“I agree with the trash part,” Kenma snorted. “But he’s actually pretty dorky. He’s majoring in music and wants to compose movie scores,” he explained. “He pretends he’s cool and schemes but he’s honestly such a nerd.”

“Really?” Lev queried. He looked at the ceiling in thought. “I guess I never bothered to ask and just kinda agreed with whatever I heard. His appearance makes him seems like a rebel so I didn’t question it.” He stopped and laughed. “But, wow, that is pretty nerdy. That sounds cool but it’s not _cool._ ” He made a snobby face and pronounced the word like “kewl.”

“I don’t think you’re alone thinking like that,” Kenma said into his cup and then drained the last of his drink. 

Padding over to the mini fridge, he rooted around for more soda. He returned to his spot with two sodas since he noticed Lev was almost finished and goshdarnit, Kenma was a classy and polite man. Since he got a full can of Coke this time, he poured the remaining two little bottles of vodka in as it was only proportional. 

“I didn’t know you were gay,” Lev said mindlessly as he mixed his own drink. Kenma envied how his hands didn’t shake like Kenma’s own when opening the soda.

Kenma shrugged. “I never said I was straight.”

Lev nodded seriously. He seemed to be furiously contemplating a spot on the wall behind Kenma. “But Kuroo, huh? I wouldn’t’ve guessed he was your type.”

“To be fair, I didn’t either at first,” Kenma divulged. “And then we talked for a while after the match and during the week and…” Kenma trailed off. “And then I shoved him into bush after hitting on him!” He pressed a pillow into his face and swore repeatedly. 

“Well there’s nothing I can do better about pushing the guy into the greenery but I can confirm he is not straight, to make you feel better,” Lev said, patting Kenma on the head.

Kenma lowered the pillow. “He’s not?”

Lev shook his head, swaying a bit with each turn. “He’s dating Tsukishima. Or was? I dunno. They were together at some point in time that may or may not be ongoing. Dunno the details or anything though.”

Kenma felt a surge of happiness. All is not lost! Then the second part of Lev’s sentence hit him and Kenma felt his emotions plunge. If Kuroo is taken that just makes his situation even more shameful. _Hitting on a man who’s already got a man, that’s even worse,_ Kenma’s mind taunted. _Shut the fuck up,_ Kenma thought back at himself and chugged about half his drink in one go. Please, thoughts, _go away._

Lev opened his mouth to say something. Would it make Kenma happy? Probably. Would it also crush his soul a little more? Even more likely. A timid knock on the door made both of them whip their heads around. They turned to look at each other, eyes meeting. Kenma held on as long as he could but looked away first, losing the unspoken battle. He sighed and got up to answer the door. 

Kenma raised his eyebrows at sight of their visitor. “Oh, hi, Shouyou.”

“Hey, Kenma. I’m sorry for intruding and showing up without calling but can I hang out in your room for a while?” Hinata asked quietly. He didn’t look at Kenma when he spoke.

Hearing whom their visitor was, Lev sat up. “We’re drowning our sorrows in alcohol. Care to join us?” Lev announced bit too loudly as if to make up for not being visible. 

Kenma glared at him before turning back to his friend. “Uh, yeah, sure,” he replied. He opened the door wider to let the ginger in. 

Hinata stepped in, leaving his shoes by the door. He dropped his bag near Kenma’s things, choosing to leave his hoodie on. The sleeves were dark and the smaller boy’s sniffles signaled what dampened it. Lev waved enthusiastically, nearly falling off the bed.

“Just a warning, we’re not, uh, coherent,” Kenma explained. “You don’t have to stay if it bothers you.”

Shouyou brought his eyebrows together and leaned in close to Kenma. Hinata’s eyes and nose were tinged red. Kenma exhaled in shock and anticipation. Hinata wrinkled his nose. Even Kenma could smell the alcohol on his own breath. A little sugary, too. 

“I’ll go then. I don’t want to ruin your party,” Shouyou said, a tinge of sadness in his voice.

Lev snorted loudly. Kenma glared at him. _How fucking rude. Couldn’t he see Shouyou wasn’t alright?_

“More like a pity party, Shorty. Judgin’ by the look on your face, you’d fit right in here,” Lev slurred. He pointed at Shouyou with his cup but nothing sloshed out. Kenma hadn’t even noticed that the Russian had practically downed his beverage so quickly.

“Well, he’s not wrong,” Kenma said. “You’re more than welcome to join this sorry affair.”

Shouyou didn’t say anything for a moment then nodded. Lev huffed in victory, a weird mix of a smirk and scowl on his face. Hinata looked mildly concerned but sat on the edge Kenma’s bed anyways.

“I’d offer you to choose your poison but we only have rum at this point,” Lev said, sweeping an arm toward their nightstand-turned-makeshift-bar. “Blame Kenma.”

Kenma shrugged and plopped down beside Shouyou. Turning to him, he asked, “Do you want mine? It’s Coke with vodka. Drinking the stuff straight up is nasty.”

Hinata accepted the offer and gingerly took the cup. He took a swallow and coughed a bit. “How much vodka is in here?” he asked, smacking his lips.

“There were two 50mL bottles so now about half, maybe,” Kenma estimated. He could feel the alcohol affecting his brain as he tried to do the maths of the content of his beverage. 

Shouyou nodded and sipped the drink more gently now, trying to get accustomed to the sting.

“So, Hinata, what are ya here for? Tell Dr. Haiba all your problems,” Lev said. Clearly, the alcohol was starting to really affect him, too.

Shouyou shifted on Kenma’s bed, looking uncomfortable. After he a second of heeing and hawing, he burst out in one breath, “The guy I like said he got a confession and I panicked and told him to go for it because I’m too much of a wimp to tell him how I feel.”

“Oh, Shouyou, I’m so sorry,” Kenma said, worried. He leaned over and hugged his friend, nearly pushing him over. 

Lev patted Hinata’s shoulder and said, “Shit, that sucks. It’s okay, though, you can find another man. I know it.”

“I know. I just,” Shouyou couldn’t finish his sentence and resorted to falling back and dragging his hands down his face. “I’m such an idiot.”

“We all are here,” Lev muttered, pouring straight-up rum into his cup.

“It’s alright, Shouyou. I pushed the guy I liked into some bushes and ran away after hitting on him. And he’s _taken,_ ” Kenma babbled in an effort to cheer Hinata up. 

Shouyou snorted and sat up. “I guess both of our love lives are mucked up.”

Lev squinted with his mouth open. “How come I don’t have any love issues? Is my love life really so dull?”

“It’s non-existent, Lev,” Kenma said impassively.

Hinata laughed while Lev looked highly affronted, even going so far as to place a hand over his gaping mouth. 

“So why are you part of this pity party, Lev?” Hinata asked.

Lev took a swing of his drink, cringing from the taste. “Because I suck at volleyball,” he declared. “Also, I’m failing chemistry.”

Kenma laughed. “Me, too. I got a thirty percent on my last and only test so far and I don’t even care because I hate that class.”

Lev joined in his laughter and offered a high-five. To everyone’s surprise, Kenma returned it, both their palms stinging afterwards from the force.

“How drunk are you two?” Shouyou asked, squinting at the other boys.

“I dunno, a-” Kenma replied.

“Enough for Kenma to gush about boys he likes,” Lev interrupted him.

Kenma swore at the giggling Russian and threw another pillow. His fluffy ammunitions now numbered one.

Hinata perked up. “Really? I’m practically his best friend and we talk all the time and I haven’t been able to get that information out of him.” He turned to Kenma. “Who is he, Kenma?”

Kenma noted that his cup was empty and that Shouyou’s eyes were shiny. He also swayed a bit as he spoke, probably not intentionally. _What a lightweight._ Well, then again, he was barely fifty kilos; the alcohol probably passed through his small body fast. 

He curled his finger at Lev, signaling him to pass over the bottle of rum. Lev topped off his own drink before handing it over, their handoff so clumsy that the bottle almost ended up on the floor. Further shocking Shouyou and Lev, Kenma took a swig straight from the bottle. It tasted better than the vodka and burned less, though that may be because Kenma was now familiarized with the bite of alcohol.

“Well, there’s Kuroo but I made an utter fool of myself to him and it’s most likely he’s taken,” Kenma said. He surprised himself at how easily the words rolled off his tongue and he felt mindlessly happy. 

Lev was about to add something but Kenma kept talking. Another rare occasion for the blonde since he generally let people talk over him. “I considered you, too, Shouyou, for a while. I think you’re pretty cute but I know you like Kageyama so I don’t think I’d ever date you ‘cause of that. However, I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to, like, make out,” Kenma finished.

“A shocking twist of events by Kozume Kenma!” Lev announced as if he were a sports commentator. 

Kenma felt pretty proud of himself for finally admitting that, both to Shouyou and to himself. He knew that he probably shouldn’t have said that but was too drunk to feel the regret. He could suffer tomorrow. Tonight, he took pride in his confidence, even though it came from a bottle. 

Shouyou looked pleasantly shocked. He was about to reply to Kenma’s weird confession but Lev again interrupted.

“Since we’re on this, I always found Yaku pretty cute. He’s so short, it’s like a teddy bear. A really, really angry teddy bear. So maybe more like a real bear. Except small,” Lev jabbered, his drunken slur pronouncing the last word as “smol.” 

“Hey, none of this leaves his room, okay,” Kenma confirmed, suddenly aware of the weight these words carried. “You all gotta promise.”

Lev dramatically held his hand over his heart and pledged his honor. Shouyou did so as well, though less loudly. Kenma nodded once austerely before taking another drink of the rum. This was apparently hilarious to Lev, who started laughing wildly. It spread to Kenma and Hinata and before long they were all rolling with giggles, cackling at nothing. 

“Shit, I gotta piss,” Lev wheezed, sitting up. “I’ll be back.”

He walked to the door, swaying a little. He fumbled with the door for a while before managing to open it. He staggered out into the hallway, accidently slamming the door closed. 

“I hope he doesn’t get lost and end up pissing in the hall,” Kenma commented, giggles punctuating his sentence.

“That sounds like something a cat would do,” Shouyou replied with grossed-out yet amused face.

“Well, that is what his team is called,” Kenma said.

Shouyou laughed at the low quality joke. Kenma felt his breath on his neck. It smelt of alcohol tinged with sugar. He noticed how close they were lying in the bed after collapsing from giggles. His legs were touching Shouyou’s and his arms took up most of the space between them. 

“Did you mean what you said before,” Shouyou asked, giggles fading away. He looked up at Kenma, trying to read his expression.

Kenma thought Shouyou’s eyes were a very pretty shade of brown, especially when they were looking at him with the expression Hinata had on his face. Curiosity, anticipation, a bit of fear. The allover glaze of alcohol.

“Yes.”

They kept eye contact, swaying a bit. Everything moved in slow motion. Kenma blinked languidly, not letting himself fall forward. Even amidst his drunken stupor, he still respected his friend enough to not impose himself on the ginger if he didn’t want it. 

As his eyes opened, Shouyou’s fluttered shut. The smaller boy leaned forward to close the tiny gap between them. Their lips made the barest of touches. Kenma didn’t dare move. He felt Shouyou exhale the tiniest bit and Kenma relaxed completely. The other boy leaned forward again. This time it was a proper kiss, with both boys pressing forward. Kenma tentatively placed his hand in Shouyou’s hair, enjoying its softness. They kissed gently, almost fearfully with their caution. 

Hinata scooted forward to reach his arms around Kenma’s waist. The motion caused him to open his mouth the tiniest bit. Kenma licked his bottom lip, nicking it with his teeth. All air of restraint was dropped in that moment. Kenma’s hands pushed Shouyou closer and he swung his leg around the other’s hip, flipping him on top. They opened their mouths, tongues meeting clumsily. Shouyou pulled away a bit and a string of saliva connected that mouths. They both tasted of alcohol. It was definitely the most romantic and gorgeous of make outs. 

_I wonder if Kuroo knows how to kiss better._ The thought popped up in the back of Kenma’s inebriated mind when he and Shouyou accidentally bumped teeth. 

_Ugh, I shouldn’t be thinking of him now._ Kenma hated how perfect Kuroo was; his stupid smirk, his bedhead, his adoration of films and music, his bravery to do the things he loved. Kenma wished he had that kind of confidence and self-respect. He felt tears prick at his closed eyes. _Why can’t I just not mess up for once?_ Fuck Kuroo Tetsurou. But also _fuck_ Kuroo Tetsurou. 

_I wonder if Kageyama would have ever kissed me like this,_ Hinata thought. _If only I wasn’t such a coward and just told him._ He felt the tears he’d been holding back fall. He wished he had been able to speak his mind during that moment. He had liked the setter since high school and had had many opportunities to confess but threw them all away. Now his chance was probably lost forever. He kissed Kenma frantically as if it would take away all his problems and pain. 

Salty tears slipped in the kiss. Neither knew which one was crying but continued on in their individual sorrow, drowning out the emotions with physical pleasure. Kenma kissed Shouyou’s shoulders, leaving a hickey on his right one. Hinata pushed Kenma’s shirt up to feel his skin before moving up to tangle his hands in the bleach-blonde strands. They were damaged and rough but the roots where the black was growing back was soft. The tugging hurt Kenma but he welcomed the pain and distraction. Hinata dislodged his leg from between Kenma’s and hooked it around his waist. Pulling the blonde to him, he swapped their positions. 

The idea sounded better in his head than he managed to pull off. He miscalculated the force needed and they ended up next to each other rather than on top. They both burst out in quiet sorrowful laughter, arms still around each other. Their cheeks were both wet despite their smiles. Shouyou reached up to wipe Kenma’s tears away with his fingertips. 

Shouyou pulled Kenma closer, leaning his head on his chest. He felt the warmth of Kenma’s body and listened to his quick heartbeat, sure his own was beating just as fast. He felt Kenma rest his chin in his hair. He closed his eyes and savored the moment. In this moment, at least, they could be happy. Soon, the exhaustion and the draining emotions caused them both to nod off.

“What the fuck,” Lev yelled walking in the dorm. He left to go pee for fifteen minutes and the two boys fell asleep. _What losers_ Lev thought as he yawned and climbed into bed. 

“Only the feeble fall asleep before three AM,” he muttered to himself, pulling the blankets over the boys cuddling boys and turning off the light. 

_Sleep is for the weak,_ Lev thought as he climbed under his own blankets and rested his head on the cool pillow. 

The last thing he saw before passing out was the mostly empty bottle of rum and Kenma and Hinata clutching each other in sleep. 

_We’re going to have such massive hangovers tomorrow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol
> 
> [also omg look at the sheet music Kenma's playing for Kuroo holy sh it](http://classicalsheetmusicgratis.org/wp-content/uploads/VIVALDI-Cello-Concerto-RV-424-PARTS-SCORE.pdf)
> 
> Also, the chapter titles are things Lev says after the occurrences of each chapter aha ;)
> 
> Leave all exclamations of shock and rants in the comments heh
> 
> I SWEAR TO THE GO D S THIS IS A KUROKEN FIC I SW EA R ALL WILL BE EXPLAINED NEXT CHAPTER


	5. Monster is Totally Part of A Balanced Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo is a secret mom, Kenma tries to cook, and Hinata is a fucking amazing friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh ym god, writing this chapter was hell after the first scene. i knew what i wanted to happen but the wORDS were not having it ugh
> 
> **BUT SEE IT'S STILL KUROKEN I TO L D Y'ALL**
> 
> [ EDITOR THAT SAVES MY LIFE](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Raviolli/pseuds/Raviolli)

Kenma was having a lovely sleep. He was buried under all his comforters and blankets and his hair hadn’t wormed its way into his mouth as it usually does. He was hugging something warm, probably a stuffed animal or mass of blankets. Kenma could have slept for hours more. However, said mass of _something_ kicked him in the side.

Cracking open one eye, Kenma tried to locate the source of the offense. He saw that his bed was a mess, blankets and sheets falling off the edge and tangled around his body. The early morning light filtered in through the windows that he and Lev had forgotten to cover with curtains. He couldn’t hear birds yet, signaling that it was way too early for any decent human being to be awake. He wondered what had hit him but an encroaching headache and exhaustion told him to go back to sleep.

_Whatever._ Nestling deeper in his covers, he ignored Lev’s snores and the cold feet against his shins. He knew he should be concerned about one of those, but couldn’t find the energy to care. Sleep looked so pleasant and Kenma wholeheartedly surrendered to it. He could deal with any problems when he awoke.

~.~

Shouyou felt consciousness creeping into his brain. First, he felt the comfort of the bed he was in and relished it; it was a lot softer than he remembered his bed being. Then, the smell of the room filled his nose. The pillow smelt of lemons and sunscreen and autumn. It was vaguely familiar and pleasant. Next, he felt the heat of the blankets. There were too many and he was practically cooking under them all. He kicked them away and felt the cold air hit his skin. It was still unpleasant and the back of his mind complained about how he could never find the right temperature to sleep well. He rolled over in hopes of finding a cooler spot on the mattress only to hit a body.

Hinata’s sleep-addled brain turned on faster as he tried to process why there was a person in his bed. The first thumps of a headache started setting in as he further entered complete consciousness. He sat up, supporting himself on his elbows.

This was not his room. Instead of Yamaguchi quietly dozing in the other bed, Lev was splayed out on the blankets, snoring loud enough to rival a semi truck’s engines. There were video games and books scattered around instead of his dorm’s usual neatness thanks to Yamaguchi’s tidying. There was a mostly empty bottle of rum of the nightstand and bleached blonde hair fanned out on the pillow next to him.

“Holy sh-.”

An arm smacked him in the neck, cutting off his expletive. It bumbled around his face as Hinata tried to talk. However, his reflexes were dulled by sleep and a hangover. The pesky hand covered his mouth, silencing Shouyou’s shouts. In retaliation, Hinata ripped off the covers to expose the body to which this limb belonged. 

“No!” Kenma whined. He covered his face with his arms and curled inwards. He moans as he as the chilly air filled the space where his warm blankets just were. He tried to reach out to take back his warmth while keeping his eyes screwed shut. 

“Kenma, wake up.” Shouyou’s voice was hoarse with sleep. He threw the blankets to the foot of the bed much to the displeasure of Kenma. 

The blonde groaned loudly, turning over to bury his face in his pillow. Amidst the sounds of displeasure, Hinata could pick out the occasional “no” and “fuck you.” He smiled despite himself, amused. Kenma tried hard to filter his words and emotions while awake. This display of childish annoyance was so unlike him yet perfectly him.

“It’s time to get up,” Hinata croaked. He shook his friend’s shoulder roughly. 

Kenma’s hand shot out from under the pillow and shoved Hinata over with a surprising force. Hinata still couldn’t remember why he was in Kenma’s bed, but they were both still dressed and Kenma was basically his best friend so it couldn’t have been anything bad, right?

Shouyou laughed, turning to look at his friend. Kenma glared at him blearily. They were on the same pillow and Hinata wrinkled his nose at the smell of Kenma’s morning breath. Kenma’s eyes went to Shouyou’s neck and suddenly widened. Something felt familiar about this position…

It seemed to hit them at the same time. Their faces paled. 

_Oh shit, I made out with my best friend._

Kenma shot up, his hair sticking up in a golden cloud around his head. “Shouyou, I-” he started. His head was pounding. He could feel his heartbeat in his stomach. However, it also could have been the residue of last night’s drinking rolling around in his belly.

Hinata scooted back, grasping at words and missing. He was horrified at his memories. Why did he do that? Why did he think that was a good idea? Regret and embarrassment filled his mind.

Kenma didn’t look any different. He felt nauseous. Was it an emotional reaction from frustration at his drunken choices? A little bit was. Was he also physically nauseous because he was hung-over? Oh, you betcha.

“Shouyou, I’m sorry,” Kenma wheezed, covering his mouth. His emotions and remnants of last night’s dinner were roiling around his stomach, threatening to come up. 

Hinata furiously shook his head and was about to apologize when Kenma hunched over, looking green. He dry heaved and coughed. The queasy blonde stumbled out of bed, hand over his mouth, trying to keep his stomach contents in his body. He bolted for the door, not bothering to close it. 

Lev rolled over and looked at Hinata. The light in the room was making his headache worse and the Russian didn’t look any better. He raised an eyebrow at Kenma’s sudden departure but didn’t question it.

“There’s aspirin in the nightstand,” Lev rasped. 

Hinata reached over and located the bottle, taking a couple for himself before passing it to Lev. The ginger downed his medicine with the remaining bit of flat soda, turning the can upside down to get every last drop.

“Nice hickey.”

Hinata nearly spit soda everywhere.

~.~

Kenma groaned. He flushed the toilet and collapsed on the ground. He was beyond caring about sitting on the disgusting bathroom floor. He took deep breaths, hoping that his body was done expelling the contents of his stomach. Everything smelt of puke and his head felt like it was going to explode.

After deciding he had nothing left in him to vomit, Kenma rinsed his mouth and trudged back to his dorm. A few people had given him pitiful looks while he threw up and he didn’t want anyone calling an R.A. to check on him. Still, he wasn’t ready to face Shouyou.

The door was still open when he arrived. The rare Pepe’s on the door seemed to judge him. Kenma glared back at them. Lev was sitting on the edge of his bed nursing a bottle of water. He gave a weak but impish grin when he saw Kenma. The semi-blonde nodded mutely and walked over to the nightstand. He swallowed three aspirin dry.

“Where’s Shouyou?” he asked, still standing. 

“He left,” Lev replied. “He looked ill but said he had class.” Lev squinted at him. “What happened while I was gone last night?”

Kenma winced. “I made out with Shouyou,” he mumbled.

Lev nodded. “I figured.” He grinned knowingly. “You left a nice hickey on him.”

Kenma blanched. He fell forward on his bed, the impact worsening his headache. “I can’t believe I did that.”

“Hinata said the same,” Lev commented. He seemed a lot less hung-over than Kenma. _It must be because he’s a giant and Russian so the alcohol doesn’t affect him as much,_ Kenma thought bitterly.

“Did you like it?” Apparently, not even a hangover could stop Lev from being too nosey. 

“No!” Kenma exclaimed. “Absolutely not.”

Lev snorted. “He was that bad of a kisser?”

“That’s not it.” _Though that was true,_ he thought remembering their teeth hitting and noses bumping. 

“So then it was good.” Lev’s eyes widened a bit. “Wait, don’t tell me you had sex while I was asleep oh god-”

Kenma threw his only pillow at Lev. In the back of his mind, he wondered why the rest of his pillows littered the ground. “No, we didn’t. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“So what went wrong?” Lev asked, genuinely curious and completely missing the point.

Kenma did not want to be having this conversation and certainly not with Lev but he was already waist-deep and sinking deeper. “He’s my _friend._ That’s all I want him as. And now I messed it up and scared him away with my stupidity.”

Lev squinted at the wall. “I do remember you both saying you like other people.”

“Exactly,” Kenma sighed, exasperated. 

Kenma wasn’t ever the best at making friends. He was too shy, too self-conscious to ever really relax around people. The rare occasions that he managed to become acquainted with someone ended quickly. They always seemed to have better friends than him or were more interested in others. Kenma was usually tossed aside the moment someone more appealing than him showed up. 

He was used to being ignored. Used to be being replaced and left behind. He learned to live and even take comfort in that loneliness. He grew fond of his own company. He could do as he pleased with no arguments or conflict. He saw people as they saw him; a temporary amusement. It worked well. The only times it hurt were when he was hurt or stressed and had no one to turn to. He had to deal with his anxiety and panic attacks, which arose from being alone, by himself. His parents didn’t seem to notice or care deeply; they thought it was a normal teenage reaction, an awkward phase in the series of growing up. They were content that he wasn’t out getting drunk and having sex. They completely missed how it affected him to have no one. 

Growing up like that had left a scar on Kenma. He trusted no one because no one had ever trusted him nor did he ever have anyone to trust. He was suspicious of anyone who wanted to be around him. After all, his experiences told him that anyone who wanted to be around him just wanted something from him. He was so afraid and wary of being close to people but so deeply craved that kind of emotional intimacy. 

He thought Hinata would be like the others. Ask him for a return favor and then ignore him. He looked popular enough to have a good range of other friends who were probably more amiable than Kenma. But he ended up surprising Kenma. He never asked for a return service. He sought out Kenma, yes, but his intention was to talk or hang out purely because he liked being around Kenma. Kenma was shocked. He warily agreed at first, worried that Shouyou would just drop him when he got bored. Except, the opposite happened. Hinata genuinely wanted to be closer and for some reason Kenma let him. Maybe it was because Shouyou seemed so honest and blatant. Maybe it was because Kenma wanted, _needed,_ someone to be close to. 

Before yesterday, he had even allowed himself to believe that maybe Shouyou wouldn’t run off, that he wouldn’t cut him out of his life after learning more about Kenma. Hinata understood Kenma’s anxiety and knew when to help him with things like talking to cashiers and walking in large crowds. But, he also went out of his way to try to push Kenma to get better and grow. Kenma was comfortable around Shouyou and grew to love having someone around to play videos games with and comment with on the latest nasty food the cafeteria served. It was nice and somehow amazing to have someone to finally share secrets with and who wouldn’t judge him for them. It was the type of friendship Kenma only dreamed of having. And now it was shattered. 

Lev’s water bottle crinkled as he squeezed out the last drops. Kenma heard him get up and shuffle to the door.

“I also remember that you’re failing chemistry.”

Kenma deeply regretted throwing all his pillows already.

~.~

The cashier eyed Kenma strangely as he put his tray of food on the counter. It consisted of a giant bowl of ice cream, a king-sized Kitkat bar, and a can of Monster. It was eight in the morning.

Kenma sighed and handed over his student pass to pay. He chose a booth near the back, away from the early morning crowds. People smiled and laughed with their friends as they ate fruit bowls and oatmeal dressed in exercise gear. _Curse athletic people and their healthy habits._

As he mechanically shoveled the ice cream into his mouth, he checked his phone. No messages. He hasn’t seen Shouyou since yesterday when they woke up together. Kuroo still texted him occasionally, though; apparently, he didn’t think much of what passed between him that night. To be frank, Kenma knew it was his anxiety making mountains out of molehills. However, that didn’t lessen the feeling of embarrassment and regret or make him hate his social skills or lack thereof. 

Kuroo still flirted with him, sending him shitty puns and wink emojis during their text conversations. Kenma responded but tried to stop any attempt of flirting back. Kuroo never explained “his girl” or what his relationship with Tsukishima was. It felt a bit suspect. If Kuroo was taken, why was he flirting with Kenma? What was happening between them? Until he got more information, Kenma decided to reign in his affections, which he totally didn’t have anyways. Pffft.

Kenma sighed into his chocolate bar. When had his life become so complicated?

He polished off his balanced breakfast, still feeling hungry. He decided another sundae was the only proper sustenance and made his way back to the ice cream station. He chose strawberry ice cream (it’s a fruit, that’s healthy, right?) this time, drowning it in chocolate sauce and whipped cream. 

“Isn’t it a bit early for dessert?” 

Kenma whipped around to face Kuroo. He had a lopsided smirk plastered on his face and his eyebrows furrowed slightly in concern. 

Kenma scoffed. “What are you, my mom?”

Kuroo looked temporarily shocked at Kenma’s bitter tone. The dark bags under his eyes and messy hair must have only exaggerated his words. Before Kenma could even blink, Kuroo reaffixed his usual expression, his smirk looking more cheeky than normal. “Only if you’re into that.”

“Bye, Kuroo.” Kenma started walking away. He was slightly disappointed he wouldn’t be able to add any more sugary toppings to his second breakfast without Kuroo hassling him.

It’s really a pity that Kenma’s stride is easy to catch up with. 

“But honestly, this is the, like, fourth or fifth time I’ve seen you at the sundae station in just a couple days. Should I be concerned?” Kuroo’s soft smile held a trace worry. 

Kenma felt anxiety building in his chest. He did not want to discuss this nor did he like the conflicting feeling in his heart caused by Kuroo’s worry and attentiveness to him. He just shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

Kuroo bit his lip. Due to his numerous and frequent chats with Kenma, he knew that the blonde did not like speaking his emotions or anything too personal, especially as of late. Kuroo wondered if his flirting had scared the boy. Kenma had been responding to his texts but since that night after their cello lesson, he seemed skittish. Kuroo wasn’t sure how to help or how much he could even help. _Might as well take this step and try this now._

“If… if you ever need anything or want to talk, I’m here, okay?” he said gently, looking at Kenma from the corner of his eye.

Kenma’s hands tightened around his bowl and he bit the inside of his cheek. Oh, how he wished to tell someone, to ask for help or advice. But he just didn’t have it in him to trust anyone with those thoughts, especially Kuroo, who, despite being seemingly taken, continued to flirt with Kenma. There was something off about him and since he didn’t seem ready to divulge it, neither would Kenma. 

He swallowed and nodded. “I’ll keep it in mind.” He paused. “Thank you.” Not many people offered to be there for him, even if Kuroo was a bit sketchy.

Kuroo grinned “See ya, pudding head.” Kenma frowned while Kuroo waved farewell as he walked away. 

Kenma silently paid for his frozen treat though he was barely hungry anymore. Retreating to his booth, he saw a flash of orange hair. He sucked in a deep breath. Hinata did a double take when he saw him but before he could act, his friend grabbed his arm and dragged him away. Kenma let out his breath.

He couldn’t take this anymore. What a stupid thing to get between friends. They both made a questionable choice but Kenma wasn’t going to let his first real friend slip away so easy. 

To: Shouyou  
From: Kozume K.  
08:29

can we talk? Like tomorrow? 

Kenma hesitated before hitting send. He rarely ever seeks out people like this. He always felt like he was annoying people if he contacted them first. He hoped that this situation would end up being worth being a bother.

~.~

Kenma rolled around in bed, kicking his blankets away only to pull them back. He was too hot with them and too cold without. It wasn’t like he could sleep anyways. His brain refused to stop replaying his recent memories and mistakes. His mind was too loud and his stomach was moaning for food. He had forgotten to eat the rest of the day. Kenma sat up. Lev snored on the other bed. Kenma envied his ability to sleep so comfortably.

Carefully avoiding strewn papers and textbooks, Kenma padded over to the mini-fridge. It was noticeably devoid of alcohol but that wasn’t what he was looking for. Opening the freezer part of the refrigerator, he located his prize. Chocolate chip cookie dough. He sat on the edge of his bed and broke off bit to eat. His tired mind had a sudden and terrible idea. _I’m going to cook this. I’m going to make fucking cookies at one in the morning._

Kenma grabbed his room key and the roll of cookie dough. The common room had a stove and metal tray because occasionally people do cook there. _Just not in the middle of the fucking night,_ Kenma snorted. _Well, no one is around to judge me anyways._

Kenma felt a laugh bubbling up as he entered the common room. He was really going to make cookies. His situation was horribly amusing to his tired mind. He laughed out loud when the hand soap released bubbles. While the oven heated, he greased the tray and cut the roll into slices. He hands were tired and eyes blurring so he ended up with a few crooked slices and dough crumbs that he pressed into other cookies that seemed small. A beep signaled that the oven was ready. Kenma slid the tray in and set the timer for fifteen minutes. Now the wait begins.

“I’ve completely lost control of my life,” Kenma muttered as he collapsed on the couch. “This is alright.”

The doorknob rattled suddenly. Kenma gasped and his eyes widened. _The R.A. is here to yell at me,_ he swore mentally. He searched furiously for somewhere to hide. He noticed the couch wasn’t pushed flush against the wall. _Well, nothing really matters at this point._ He dove headfirst behind the couch just as the door opened. 

“I can’t believe you made me come here at one in the morning,” a voice complained. 

“It’s not like you were asleep anyways,” Kuroo snorted. Kenma heard a loud thump as Kuroo sat in an armchair. _Well, this is not what I expected._

“I know but,” the voice said, falling into another chair. “I could’ve been.”

“Then you wouldn’t have woken up anyways, Bokuto,” Kuroo said. There was a pause before Kuroo sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine, I’ll buy you a cookie tomorrow or something.”

Kenma guessed the one called Bokuto made a satisfied noise before asking, “So what troubles your mind at this hour?”

“Tsukki.”

Kenma held his breath in anticipation. Also because it was hard to breathe deeply in the position he was in. He was very thankful for his flexibility for once. 

“You guys still haven’t sorted that out?” Bokuto sounded surprised.

“No.” Kuroo sighed. “It wasn’t supposed to go this way.”

“I guess when you’re friends with benefits there’s a chance one person might develop feelings for the other,” Bokuto said, shuffling around in his seat. His tone made it seem like this was not the first time he’s said this. 

_Oh._ Kenma quickly felt embarrassed for inadvertently intruding on such a personal conversation. He was curious but also really wanted to tune them out.

“We both knew there was that chance but never said anything. I hoped that neither of us would and it looked like that was going to happen for a while,” Kuroo explained. “Then he told me he loved me.”

“How did you respond?” Apparently Bokuto only had a basic idea of what was going on between Tsukishima and Kuroo.

“I really couldn’t at that moment.” Kuroo sounded aggravated yet embarrassed. 

Bokuto made a noise of understanding. “Well, what did you say afterwards?”

“I told him I didn’t feel that way.” Kuroo hesitated. “He didn’t take it well.”

There were some shuffling noises and a sigh. After a few moments, Kuroo continued. “He argued that you can’t have sex with someone like we did and not love them. I told him that sex doesn’t equal love and that that was what we agreed on at the beginning. He said that he was wrong then.”

Bokuto made a noise of offense. “What an ass!”

“It continued like that for a while. I was ready to just leave but he stopped me. He asked for a chance. Actually date him for a week, no sex, and then see how I felt.”

“And?” Bokuto drew out the vowel.

“I agreed. I figured he would see he’s wrong and I could let him down easy.” There was a long pause. “That was more than a week ago.”

“When are you going to tell him?”

“Tomorrow. Or, I guess, today.” A few more shuffling noises. Whoever was moving seemed agitated and couldn’t hold still.

“How do you think it’s going to go?” Bokuto seemed wary.

Kuroo hummed in thought. “I think he knows I’m right and that he doesn’t really love me. It’s just going to be awkward and he can be a decent friend at times and I don’t want to completely ruin that, ya know?”

“He’ll get over it. He has Yamaguchi to console him.” Bokuto’s tone was happier and hopeful. Kenma guessed that he was trying to cheer up his friend.

Kuroo hummed in agreement. 

“It’s hard not to fall prey to that body of yours. Too bad your personality sucks.” Bokuto laughed.

There were sounds of a struggle and laughs from both of them. After a few moments they calmed down.

“You’ll be fine,” Bokuto said, honesty filling his voice.

“I just hate drama,” Kuroo groaned. His words were muffled. He probably had his hands over his face. 

“But it’s all going to work out!” Bokuto sounded cheerful. “Besides, you have your cute little blonde cellist to occupy you.” Kenma couldn’t see Bokuto but he could hear the smirk in his voice. 

_Holy fuck, are they talking about me?_ Kenma felt his heart beat a little faster thought he felt even more like he was intruding. 

“Shut up! He lives in a dorm here somewhere,” Kuroo exclaimed. Bokuto laughed. 

“I bet you know which dorm it is!” Bokuto seemed to be enjoying himself.

“Maybe,” Kuroo pouted. 

“You should ask him out,” Bokuto suggested, a smile in his voice.

A sigh. “I think I scared him the other night. We were about to kiss when Tsukishima showed up complaining about Hiyori.”

“Wow, what a cockblock.” Bokuto snorted. “Both Tsukishima and your cat.”

Kuroo scoffed. “Hiyori was an innocent victim in this. I fed her before my cello lesson with Kenma. She should have been fine. I swear Tsukishima lied just to ruin the moment.”

“Your girl.” Hiyori. _Your cat._ Kenma wanted to slap himself. He had been worried about a _cat._ Kuroo wasn’t dating anyone; he just had a cat. _And I thought I couldn’t feel more dumb and embarrassed._ Kenma was glad he was wedged behind the couch so no one could see his face turn shades of red.

“Hey, do you smell cookies?” Bokuto sounded bewildered.

Kuroo gave a loud and conspicuous sniff. “It does.” His words trailed off in confusion.

_OH FUCK THE COOKIES._ It took ever bit of self control Kenma had to not yell anything.

There were sounds of springs uncoiling as the two got up from their seats and made their way to the oven. 

Bokuto let out a short laugh. “Someone is making cookies!”

“But there’s no one here.” Kuroo sounded suspicious. 

The timer went off and one of the two turned it off. There was an unnerving silence. Kenma wanted to see what was happening but couldn’t risk moving.

“Well.” Bokuto drew out the sound. “We can’t just leave these to burn.”

Kuroo hummed in consent. One of them opened the oven with a squeak. The tray screeching as it was slid over the metal rails. It clattered onto the countertop. 

“You know, whoever made these must’ve started like twenty minutes ago.” Kuroo started.

“And they haven’t come back in that time.” Bokuto caught on to Kuroo’s idea.

“I highly doubt they’ll come back. They probably fell asleep somewhere while waiting.” Kenma could practically _hear_ the smirk spreading in his voice.

“It would be a shame to just leave these here,” Bokuto agreed.

Kuroo laughed, the pitch rising as if in question. “Ohoho?” Bokuto responded with another laugh, a sly tone slipping into it. “Ohohoho.”

There were noises of scraping and the tray wobbling on the counter. They hummed in approval.

“They’re so good,” Bokuto moaned. “I haven’t had a good cookie in so long.”

Something plastic wrinkled. “They’re cut and bake Pillsbury cookies. Nothing special,” Kuroo pointed out around a mouthful of gooey cookie.

How Kenma longed to have a cookie. _Fuck this, fuck my life._

Bokuto grunted. “Whatever, they taste better than the ones in the cafeteria.”

Kuroo was silent. Kenma guessed he nodded. 

The two chatted about things that didn’t matter to Kenma and things he didn’t know about as they ate his cookies. Kenma was very peeved. He worked a full ten minutes to cut those and put them in the oven. He hoped they would leave a couple for him. 

Bokuto gave a contented sigh. “That’s all I can eat right now.”

A pause as Kuroo probably nodded, as there wasn’t a sound of him taking another cookie. “What do we do with the rest?”

“Just cover the tray with the towel. Someone will find them in the morning and eat them.” There were sucking and popping noises as Bokuto licked his fingers.

There was the slight noise of fabric flying as Kuroo covered the cookies. Kenma grew excited. There were leftovers and it seemed like the two would leave at last. His body was growing stiff from his awkward position.

The counter creaked as one of them pushed off of it. There was a shuffle and scuffle of slippers.

“I’m going to sleep now,” Kuroo announced.

“Aw, you’re going to make me walk all the way back to my dorm?” Bokuto whined.

“Feh.”

There was a long moment of silence. Kenma guessed the two were having a staring contest or some other bodily communication. 

Kuroo groaned. “Fine, you can sleep in my room.”

Bokuto whooped in joy, sounding suspicious owl-like. 

“How does Akaashi deal with you?” Kuroo muttered.

The door creaked and then shut. Kenma waited a few minutes in case them came back. Deciding the coast was clear, Kenma rolled out from behind the couch, falling loudly. He swore and looked around the room. It was empty. 

Kenma got up, stretching his rigid muscles. He removed the cloth from the cookies and found the three survivors. They did not last long at his hands. Kenma’s stomach grumbled for more food but Kenma could feel his eyelids drooping. Fatigue was flowing through his limbs and he was ready to sleep. He cleaned up as best he could before lumbering to his room. He was out before his face even touched the pillow.

~.~

Kenma nervously shuffled around underneath the tree. He had asked Shouyou to meet him here and the other boy had agreed. It was a rather detached spot. It was still technically on campus but not many ventured to this part. There were rarely many people around. Kenma liked to study or relax here when the weather allowed it. He figured it was public enough to not frighten Hinata but also secluded enough that they could talk freely.

It was a breezy and cold. The wind threw crunchy leaves at Kenma’s legs and blew his hair into a tizzy. The naked tree let weak sunlight through its branches thought the light did not offer much warmth. However, Kenma was grateful for the distraction; it kept his mind alert while he waited.

“Uh, hi, Kenma.”

Kenma spun around, nearly tripping on a root that poked out from the dirt. Shouyou stood in from of him. He had his hands in his pockets and his shoulders were hunched but he looked right at Kenma.

“Shouyou! Hi,” Kenma stuttered, the words he had practiced in his head falling apart like ash. “Thanks for coming out here.”

“’S no problem.” Hinata kicked at a small pile of leaves that had gathered at the base of the tree. Kenma waited for him to say more but realized he wasn’t going to. After all, Kenma was the one who called him here to talk.

“Uh, so about the other night,” Kenma started. Shouyou bit his lip and nodded slightly. The awkwardness grew regardless if the silence was filled or not.

“I’m-” They said and cut off at the same time.

“Crap, no you say what you want to say,” Shouyou said frantically. 

Kenma shook his head with just as much energy. “No, no, you go first. I’m not important.” 

He could see Shouyou slump down the tiniest bit. He was sad and probably disappointed that Kenma still thought of his words as unimportant. He always tried to get Kenma to speak up more and see that what he was saying was just as significant as what others were saying. Kenma tried to believe him when he said things like that but could never quite believe it.

“I’m sorry about that night. It wasn’t really fair of me,” Hinata said after sighing. Then he straightened up and looked Kenma in the eyes. “But I don’t want that to ruin our friendship because it means a lot to me and not talking to you has been horrible and I’d really miss you if we never talked again.”

Kenma pressed his lips together, teeth digging into the soft flesh. “I’d miss you, too,” he choked out. “I fucked up, I’m the one who should be sorry.”

Wiry but strong arms enveloped him. Shouyou’s face pressed into Kenma’s shoulder, muffling his words. “We both did; we both messed up.”

“Can we still be friends?” Kenma was too shocked and afraid to move. 

Shouyou paused. “If that’s what you want.” Kenma groaned internally. He honestly did not think of Shouyou in any romantic sense and he was 99.999% sure Shouyou didn’t think of him like that either. On the other hand, he was also incredibly sure neither of them wanted to just walk away and never talk again.

Kenma forced his arms around Hinata’s shoulders. Hugging was strange territory for him but it felt like the right thing to do. “Yes, it is. I love having you as a friend and I don’t want you to leave me.”

Shouyou’s arms tightened around him and Kenma thought he heard a sniffle. When Hinata pulled away, he was radiating happiness, his grin showing all his teeth and the corners of his eyes crinkling. 

“Good.” A bit of mischief sparkled in his eyes. “You were a shitty kisser anyways. Making out with a volleyball would have more pleasant.”

Kenma snorted. “You say that like you have experience locking lips with sweaty sports equipment.”

Shouyou laughed and Kenma felt the tension between them melt away. They were okay. He still had his friend and everything would be all right now. Well, he still hated his major and Kuroo was still more mysterious than the complete spice recipe of the Colonel’s fried chicken but at least his best friend was back. He could deal with everything else later like the true procrastinator he was.

~.~

The printer made whale noises as it slowly spit out Kenma’s papers. He was printing off some articles for classes of his. Kenma swung his arms as he waited for the slow machine to print. It was ancient but reliable so the school never bothered to get a new one. Around him, students typed away on computers or scribbled in notebooks while perusing textbooks. The air was filled with the smell of old paper and the hushed sounds of studying. Kenma yawned, squeezing his eyes shut and covering his mouth.

“Hey, pudding head.” 

Kenma opened his eyes to see Kuroo approaching him. He was wearing bright yellow suspenders though his denim button-up was un-tucked. _A peculiar fashion taste, that one._ Kenma wasn’t sure if it was fashion-forward or simply messy. 

“Hi, Kuroo,” Kenma replied. His quickly checked the printer; it was still chugging.

“So, you come here often?” Kuroo joked. He leaned his hand on the counter. However, he was so engrossed in being cliché that he failed to notice that he put his weight on a clipboard. When he felt his hand sliding, his mouth dropped into an “o” of surprise. He slid into the counter, his arm hitting the edge painfully. The clipboard went flying though it snapped back because it was attached to a small chain. 

Kenma hid a chuckle. “Smooth.”

Kuroo chuckled nervously as he pulled the clipboard by the chain and set everything back. “As a baby’s butt,” he amended, tugging on his fringe. 

Kenma snorted and checked the machine again. It was spewing out sheet music. _I swear I didn’t get any music today?_ he thought, confused.

“That’s mine,” Kuroo said when he say Kenma’s puzzled expression. “Just a nicer version stuff I wrote and a couple of other songs to play.”

Kenma nodded. Kuroo’s music was clean and simply laid out. The plain pages switched styles and he caught the name of a couple of the new songs. _Can’t Help Falling in Love With You_ by Elvis Presley closely followed by _Vanilla Twilight_ by Owl City. 

Kenma quirked a grin. “What sappy love songs,” he commented.

Kuroo rubbed the back of his neck and said, “I just like the songs and thought they’d be fun to learn. I do that with a lot of popular songs I like.”

“Cute,” Kenma muttered.

Kuroo gave a lazy smirked and tugged on his suspenders. “I know I am.”

“And it’s gone,” Kenma said breezily, turning to collect his papers.

“You should come by and hear me play one day,” Kuroo suggested after a beat. “Y’know, since I’ve heard you play so it’d be kind of like a trade.”

Kenma looked over his shoulder. “Who said I wanted to hear you play.”

Kuroo felt a cloud settle over him.

Kenma gave him a smug little smile. “Just name the day; I’m usually in the music building anyways.”

Kuroo stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. “How about Friday?”

Kenma slipped his articles into his bag and nodded. “I’ll see you then.”

“Great!” Kuroo then coughed, trying to tone down his exuberance. “See ya then.”

Kenma waved and left Kuroo standing there, smiling like a dazed idiot. Kenma felt happy and nervous and, for once, that nervousness didn’t scare him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ???¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿????? i don't know. my ideas are going bust, this fanfic is going to shit sigh
> 
> i have actually made cookies at like 1am i can confirmed that it makes you question all your life choices
> 
> [yell at me](http://hipster-yams.tumblr.com)
> 
> but hey-o, comment/feedback me on here! :3
> 
> Also, i'm going on vacation next week for like 11 days and then a week after i get back i start college so updates might take a bit longer. i swear ill try to not take too long but like i don't know how busy ill be and i need my editor to check everything i write before i post it so yeah wish me luck!


	6. You're a Romance Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroken sleep and compose, Lev is a joke, and Kenma loses his shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back from vacation! Switzerland is such a pretty place omg. I'll miss the fresh air and good cheese but I'm happy to have my own comfy bed and ocean and finally have a keyboard underneath my fingers again. 
> 
> On that track, I start college in like tomorrow essentially lol so I don't really know how updates will go? They might take a few weeks but I will not abandon this fic, rest assured. I have dedicated too much time and love this fic too much to stop; besides, i have to write to live like people have to breathe. I hope you all stay with me on this weird journey of kuroken, friends, cellos, and confusion! I truly appreciate all the support I receive :3c
> 
> [EDITOR](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Raviolli/pseuds/Raviolli)
> 
> TW: Anxiety and panic attacks and anGST LIKE IM SORRY IN ADVANCE

The mellow music flowed from Kenma’s cello as he moved the bow languidly. The song was [Élégie in C minor Op. 24](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pPqtoL9V-Gk) by Gabriel Fauré. It was melancholy and slow but Kenma knew it well and could relax into the long, low notes. He hoped the relaxed tune would help him calm down; Kuroo had chosen today to show Kenma his newest compositions. 

Kenma was curious to hear the songs and especially curious to hear Kuroo play an instrument he actually knew (he was far from a decent cellist yet) but anxiety pervaded his emotions. _What if he sounds bad, should I say anything? What if I don’t react how he expects? What if I say something weird? What if he doesn’t like my suggestions?_ The what-if’s piled high right as the song hit a part of short notes, the tempo accelerating like Kenma’s worries and heartbeat. Kenma felt himself rushing and tried to slow down, both to do the piece some justice and to soothe his own thoughts and heart. It didn’t help that Kuroo was supposed to text any minute. 

The song calmed again and Kenma had a passing thought of whether Kuroo could play the piano accompaniment to this song. He tried to shake it out of his head but the idea of them working together was curious and somewhat exciting, if not frightening. A sudden buzz startled him out of his thoughts and causing his arm to twitch, ruining his note. 

To: Kozume K.  
From: Trash Cat  
15:53

did you know the first floor has a sick upright piano? someone painted it all over with music and composers 

To: Kozume K.  
From: Trash Cat  
15:53

and it’s actually in tune, im impressed

Kenma exhaled in amusement, a noise that wasn’t quite a snort or laugh but had more character than simply breathing. He was relieved that Kuroo had finally arrived but anxious since now he would have to see if his worries would play out or not. 

To: Trash Cat  
From: Kozume. K  
15:54

a true work of art; ill be right there

Kenma was hesitant to abandon his song midway. It just felt off to not complete a piece or at least the movement or section. He decided that the music gods would not be too upset with him for not finishing this time and started to pack up. He put his bow and cello in their case and slipped the sheet music into the accessories pocket. He wrestled with the zipper for a second since the original metal zipper clip broke off a month ago. Kenma had had to replace it with a paper clip for the time being. _I really should get a new case…_ Kenma thought as he grabbed the rest of his belongings. His phone vibrated again once he was in the hall.

To: Kozume K.  
From: Trash Cat  
15:56

actually don’t touch the piano; turns out whoever painted it did it very recently

Kenma let out a breathy laugh, imagining Kuroo examining the piano and figuring out firsthand that it was a new paint job. Kenma knew the arts building like the back of his hand and quickly headed to the room Kuroo was in. He remembered the upright in that room being painted with musical notes but couldn’t place any composers on the instrument. He figured one of the art students did it for fun and thought no one would be using it so soon since there were many other rooms with keyboards and pianos. Leave it to Kuroo to find the one piano in the building that probably shouldn’t be used. 

Arriving at the room, Kenma knocked even though the door was open. It was a large room, full of desks, chairs, and music stands. The windows were open to let in the afternoon light and breeze. The warm yellow light made the bland off-white walls look more welcoming. The upright sat against the opposite wall, the stand covered in papers.

“Hey, pudding head!” Kuroo greeted, standing up from the bench. “Come on in.” He waved and Kenma noted dark smudges on his fingers and palm.

Kenma walked over, placing his cello case beside a desk before reaching the piano. He could easily identify the composers painted on the upright, despite one having half his face smudged about two inches to the left.

“Mozart has never looked better,” Kenma commented, gesturing to the smeared portrait. 

Kuroo put his hand on his face in thought and tilted his head. “I think the nose job suits him,” he concurred. “It’s very… Dali.”

Kenma snorted. He should have figured Kuroo would be an art nerd in addition to being a music one. “Somehow, I don’t think that was the artist’s original intent.”

Kuroo smiled at Kenma, relieved the blonde understood his abstruse joke. “You kidding me? Mozart was born to be painted in surrealism on some musty old piano at a college.”

“He’s rolling in his grave,” Kenma said, pressing his lips together to keep from smiling.

Kuroo pressed a hand to his chest and rocked on his heels, leaning forward to keep his balance. “I’d be honored if a famous composer like him gave my words such merit.”

“Then keep dreaming,” Kenma replied offhand.

“Kenma, how you wound me.”

_But you like it, don’t you?_ Kenma thought as a reply but immediately discarded it. He was physically incapable of being that brave and forward. Instead, he opted for an eye roll, knowing Kuroo was far from offended. Kenma inspected the music Kuroo was playing. The multicolored pen marks and paint smudges made it difficult to read. 

“I know it’s a mess; lemme play it for you,” Kuroo said, sitting on the bench. His fingers hovered over the piano, the keys pale in the center from years of wear. “After all, it is the reason why we’re here,” he said with a smirk that implied that was not the only reason they were there. 

Kuroo squinted at the paper and began to play. It started slowly, a long note quickly flowing into a faster tempo. It was a cheerful and upbeat. Kenma could imagine the song playing during a happy scene in a play or movie. Higher notes filtered in, lending the composition an air of confusion before it settled into a more melancholy tune, almost completely different than how he started. Kuroo held the last notes on fermata before turning to Kenma, eyebrows raised.

“I liked it,” he said, shuffling. He truly did but wasn’t sure how to phrase it and critique it at the same time. “It sounded like a story.”

Kuroo nodded, biting his lip. “That was the point of the assignment; to compose a song that told a story. I just think it’s missing something, like a scene is missing.”

Kenma hummed. He peered at the music again, looking for the transition between the happy and sad parts. That section had many scribbles as Kuroo tried different things in order to find the right sound. 

“What if you added an accent and changed this triad?” Kenma offered. 

“What do you suggest?” Kuroo asked. He moved to the edge of the bench and patted the spot next to him. “Show me.”

Kenma hesitated. The bench was only made for one person so fitting two would be rather snug. He knew it’d be awkward if he played standing up or outright refused to propose a few notes so he took the seat gingerly, trying to keep his knees from bumping into Kuroo’s. He imagined his cello, air playing the notes he wanted before transposing them to piano. He wasn’t the best pianist but he could eek out a tune if he tried. Biting his lip, he looked to Kuroo for assessment.

“I like it,” Kuroo mumbled. He was lost in figuring out his music and quickly changed the notes on his sheet music. He replayed the section with the new adjustments. He huffed in approval after finishing the measure and looked at Kenma. “Thanks.”

Kenma felt Kuroo knee touch his and neither bothered to move away. His eyes met Kuroo’s. His eyes were a pretty brown with flecks of gold, something he never noticed before. His eyelashes pointed down, making him look half-lidded even when he was wide-awake. His fringe hid his eyebrow though now Kenma could see that one was slightly higher than the other. He had a spot of paint on his cheek. Kenma reached up and carefully wiped it off, fingers lingering on his cheekbones. He could feel Kuroo suck in and hold his breath. Since when were they close enough for him to feel that?

“I- uh, you had some paint,” Kenma stammered, looking away and breaking whatever daze had suddenly settled over them. The air felt thick in his lungs. He was very conscious of the warmth against his knee. _Why does that even matter? I don’t know. But it feels intimate for some stupid reason._

“Ah, yes, thanks.” Kuroo cleared his throat. “So you think the rest sounds alright?” he said before an awkward atmosphere could settle.

Kenma nodded. He didn’t trust his voice to sound unperturbed. 

“If I don’t get an A, I’m blaming you,” Kuroo teased, his typical smirk restored.

“Real mature, Kuroo,” Kenma replied with a scoff of amusement. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent firing witticisms and changing music. Sometimes they managed to create a beautiful song and other times Kuroo threatened that a _Hot Cross Buns_ remix would sound better than what they had composed. Kenma was relieved that Kuroo didn’t bring up that moment or act any differently because of it. He wasn’t sure what came over him in that moment. It’s like his brain just turned off. Kenma saw the paint and his mind decided that the most logical course of action would be to wipe it off. It failed to take into account how intimate the gesture was in that moment or how they were close enough to kiss. He tried to push it out of his mind in case he started overanalyzing everything and acting oddly. _I can think about it later,_ he concluded. _I can regret all my life choices when I’m alone in my dorm and no one can see how embarrassing I am._

Kuroo ran a hand through his hair as he stared at the piece of sheet music as if it bore the answers to the universe. “This is a mess.”

Kenma nodded. “It’s covered in scribbles and the two red pens clearly don’t match.”

Kuroo snorted. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“I think it can be fixed,” Kenma said. “Just give it some time to stew.”

“It’s sheet music, not curry, Kenma.”

“Weren’t you the one just a second ago criticizing me for being too literal?” Kenma pointed out.

Kuroo pursed his lips, looking deep in thought. “Nope, don’t remember anything like that,” he concluded.

“I guess you don’t remember that I don’t have to stay here, either,” Kenma shot back.

Kuroo snapped his fingers and said, “Ah, I do remember now! Guess you don’t have to leave now either.” He shrugged apologetically but his facial expression was anything but. 

“Sorry to burst your bubble,” Kenma started, sounding completely unremorseful. “But I do actually have to go. Some of us have this thing called homework.”

Kuroo pulled a face. “Sounds dreadful.”

Kenma agreed. He searched for his phone only to remember it was in his hoodie pocket. He made sure he had his dorm key (no repeats of chapter 1) before walking over to his cello. 

“Do I not get a proper goodbye? After all the music we worked on?” Kuroo sounded affronted but his lips twitched to hide a smile.

“You must be a level ten composer before you unlock that ability,” Kenma replied. 

“What quest do I have to complete to reach that?” Kuroo played along, walking over to Kenma.

Kenma blinked slowly up at him. “Do I look like the quest master?”

Puckering his lips, Kuroo responded, “Not really.” He grinned mischievously. “You look more like pudding.”

“Creative.”

Kuroo laughed. “Wait, don’t leave. Give me a hug at least.” 

Kenma hummed, pretending to ponder the offer. “I don’t think that that is a possible avatar action.” Regardless, Kenma stepped forward quickly before he could change his mind. 

Kuroo looked genuinely surprised and happy. He enveloped Kenma easily and their height difference felt very conspicuous. Though faint, Kenma could smell his cologne mixed with coffee and the paint from the piano. Suddenly, his feet could not feel the ground and he tightened his grip on Kuroo’s collar. 

“What-” Kenma gasped.

“I didn’t think I’d be able to pick you up so easily,” Kuroo remarked.

“Are you calling me fat?”

Kuroo’s face was a mix of shock, confusion, and fear. Kenma laughed. Kuroo always pretended to be such a “cool guy” but Kenma loved it when he made a mistake or his nerdy side showed; it felt more like the real Kuroo than images of a bad boy in all black clothing smoking weed behind the gym. 

Looking relieved, Kuroo smiled and put Kenma down. “So I guess I’ll see you later?” he asked, putting his hands in his pockets.

Kenma nodded. “Of course.”

On the walk back to his dorm, Kenma felt surprisingly joyous. He could still imagine Kuroo’s dorky expression and feel his arms around his waist. _Aw, shit, I have it bad._

~.~

“Kenma, go to fucking sleep,” Lev complained into his pillow.

“Just let me finish this chapter,” Kenma replied, yawning halfway through his sentence. 

“You said that like an hour ago,” Lev muttered, rolling in bed to face away from Kenma’s light.

Kenma had returned to his dorm only to remember he had to finish his biology homework. His mood had fallen faster than a pebble off a ledge. Unable to watch his roommate wrestle with his textbook, Lev offered to help Kenma. Kenma was reluctant but accepted, as he was getting nowhere alone. Lev explained the theories that Kenma couldn’t wrap his head around and helped test him so he remembered everything. After a couple chapters, Lev started yawning so Kenma sent him to bed. He worked alone, outlining the chapter and trying the questions in the book. He was determined to do well this time. However, that had been an hour ago and Kenma still couldn’t keep the information straight. 

“Do it tomorrow,” Lev said. “Please, for me.”

“I just have a little left,” Kenma said, fighting a yawn himself. _Maybe if I just close my eyes for a second I’ll get it after._ Letting his heavy eyelids droop down, Kenma sat in silence before sleep overtook him.

Kenma woke up an unknown time later to his phone ringing. Rick Astely’s dulcet tones echoed in the cold dorm room. He frantically searched for his phone in the dark. _Lev must’ve turned off the lights,_ he thought sleepily. His fingers hit something hard and vibrating. He accepted the call and held it to his ear.

“Hello?” he asked blearily.

“Kenma! I found out how to fix that song. You have to hear it! Come up to my room, it’s 413,” Kuroo spoke fast.

Kenma sniffled and asked, “How many energy drinks have you had?”

The line crackled with static. “None actually,” Kuroo replied.

Kenma held the phone away, squinting at the screen. “It’s three AM, Kuroo.”

“I know but I need to know what you think. Besides, aren’t you curious now?” Kuroo insisted. “Please?”

Kenma sighed. “Fine.”

“Thanks, pudding head; I’ll be waiting.” The phone clicked as Kuroo hung up.

Kenma grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders. It dragged along the floor as he walked to the floor and upstairs but Kenma was beyond caring. _Why did I agree to this?_ Kenma asked himself as he knocked on door 413. 

“Kenma! Hi,” Kuroo greeted quietly. “My roommate is asleep but Yaku sleeps like a log so we can still talk.” He held the door open wide. The room looked incredibly spacious.

Kenma shuffled in. The room was as Kenma expected of college boys; a bit messy, books and clothes on the floor, empty snack bags lying around. Kuroo’s side had a black guitar case and keyboard while Yaku’s side had an overflowing bookshelf. Some classics sat right next to popular novels and a gossip magazine was tucked behind a dictionary. As expected of a literature major. 

Kuroo sat on the stool in front of the keyboard and shuffled his music. He gestured to his bed. “You can sit if you want,” he said. “Just listen to this.” 

The tune he played was familiar since they had spent so much time earlier today (or, rather yesterday) playing and replaying it as they tried to connect its separate parts. However, where he remembered puns and discordant noises, Kuroo played beautiful notes. It flowed superbly into the next part of the composition. Kuroo finished with a flourish and looked at Kenma.

“It’s perfect now,” he said, too tired to play with words or filter his emotions. His blanket was wonderfully warm and Kuroo’s bed was surprisingly soft. Kenma just wanted to go back to sleep. His eyes drooped shut of their own accord. 

Kuroo looked away to note something on his music and said, “Really? I couldn’t have done it without your advice though; I guess just ignoring it for a bit really helped to finish it.” 

By the time Kuroo looked back, Kenma had tipped over and was sound asleep. 

“Oh.”

Kuroo wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t want to wake Kenma, or anyone else, up but also didn’t know his room number to carry him back. Hiyori rubbed her face on Kuroo’s leg as he thought over his choices. He snorted quietly. What a situation. He mindlessly reached down to scratch her head. Hiyori weaved through his legs and yawned. Kuroo reciprocated the sign of fatigue. 

Sighing, Kuroo sat at the foot of the bed. His excitement over finishing the piece was fading, exhaustion seeping back into his mind. He looked over at Kenma. His hair was splayed on his pillow, eyelashes fluttering a bit as he dreamed. His face was calm, totally unaware that he had just fallen asleep in Kuroo’s bed. 

_I don’t think he’ll mind if I just lay next to him…_ Kuroo thought as he laid back, scooting to edge of the mattress. _Maybe he’ll wake up and I can send him home?_ He decided to wait a bit; he knew people often could rouse themselves awake when they hadn’t meant to fall asleep in the first place. 

He took one more peek at Kenma. The blonde mumbled and pulled his blanket closer to his chest, smiling into the fabric. Kuroo smiled faintly. _He looks pretty cute when he smiles so freely like that._

Kuroo fought to keep his eyes open. His clock told him it was nearly half past three in the morning. The back of his mind told him that he should wake up Kenma but another louder part demanded Kuroo’s heart beat a little faster, knowing that he was lying next to the guy he liked. The haze of tiredness clouded all his thoughts, leaving only the desire to sleep coherent. 

_I’ll wake him up in a second,_ Kuroo thought as his eyes fell shut one last time.

~.~

Kuroo felt something warm wrapped around him. Assuming it was a blanket, he pulled it closer to him. Instead of a vaguely thin, soft fabric, however, he felt a kind of squishy, solid mass press closer to him.

What- _Oh._

He must have fallen asleep before waking up Kenma. _Well, shit,_ he shrugged mentally. Kuroo could feel the blonde breathing evenly against him and figured he was still asleep. He smiled against his pillows, suddenly overwhelmed with affection. 

He felt Kenma kick his leg and suddenly prayed that he was not a restless sleeper. The bed was small enough with one person. With two people, it was crowded; one wrong move and someone was going to end up on the floor. 

Kuroo pried an eye open. It was still dark but Yaku was gone. _It must be after five but not before eight,_ Kuroo reasoned, dredging through his mind to find Yaku’s schedule. He liked to run in the morning before breakfast, whether he has practice and classes or not. 

Kuroo pulled a hand out of the tangle of blankets to grope around for his phone. He bumped into the headboard, the cold air above the floor, and a lost pair of earphones before accidentally brushing against Kenma’s hand. He quickly pulled away but was stopped. Kenma held his hand, pulling it back under the covers. 

“There,” came a muffled reply. 

Kenma tilted his face up towards Kuroo’s, barely opening his eyes before nodding. He snuggled back into his pillow and sighed contently.

Kuroo was sure he was grinning like an idiot. Hearing the rain hit his window and feeling the stagnant, cold air in his dorm and Kenma’s hand in his, Kuroo was more than happy to keep lying there. He was reminded of a song; _take my hand, take my whole life, too._

Drifting off to sleep, Kuroo didn’t even notice when Yaku returned, looking inquiringly at the particular scene. He certainly didn’t remember Kenma coming into their dorm yet there he was, nuzzling Kuroo under about five blankets. Yaku grabbed some things and slipped out. It was Saturday so he figured there was no harm in letting the two sleep. 

Kenma was the first to wake up. He extended his legs and hit Kuroo’s. _Huh? Oh, yeah, I fell asleep in Kuroo’s dorm,_ he remembered, grinning as he felt Kuroo’s hand still loosely in his. He thought it was a dream when he opened his eyes to see Kuroo and his infamous bedhead in its natural habitat. Laughing at the idea, he held Kuroo’s hand because it was obviously a dream so anything could happen, right? He could be as gay and happy as he wanted in his dreams and no one would be the wiser. Except it was real life and Kuroo had an arm around his waist and was snoring into his pillows. 

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t as glamorous as he had thought. But it still felt nice. 

Kuroo stirred, humming as he joined the land of the living again. Kenma shut his eyes and tried to even out his breathing, feigning sleep. He felt Kuroo yawn next to him. He reached over Kenma to check something on his nightstand.

“Kenma, it’s time to get up,” Kuroo whispered, gently nudging Kenma. 

Kenma groaned, unwilling to communicate with the world yet. 

Kuroo shook his shoulder, speaking at normal voice level. “It’s nearly noon, pudding head, get up.”

“Hm- I don’t know this world’s system so… I can’t wake up,” Kenma muttered, laughing in his head. He was glad his curled position hid his smile. 

Kuroo laughed softly. “You nerd. I would have thought a hard-core gamer like you wouldn’t need instructions for any system?” he teased.

Kenma snorted. “Of course I am,” he said, a yawn lengthening his words. “That was e733T haxxor 5killz code for ‘I want to keep sleeping.’”

“My first comment still stands.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Kuroo smirked. “I guess we’re tied then.”

Kenma rolled his eyes. Switching topics, he asked, “Do you think the cafeteria is going to serve those tepid pancakes again today?”

Kuroo bit his lip in thought. “Probably.”

Kenma made a face of disgust. 

“I hate to sound forward in this situation,” Kuroo started, a cheeky tone in his voice. “But do you want to go elsewhere and eat? I know a retro diner that serves breakfast all day.”

“You’ll make me absolutely swoon with such presumptuous offers like that, Kuroo,” Kenma deadpanned. 

“So, it’s a yes?” Kuroo asked expectantly. 

Kenma pressed his lips together to hold in a smile. “Just let me go to my room and put on some clothes that aren’t cat-patterned pajamas.”

“Fair enough,” Kuroo replied, dumb grin spreading across his lips. He was too happy that Kenma had accepted his offer to think of anything flirtatious or sassy to say. 

Kenma rolled out of bed, dragging his blanket with him. He wrapped it around his shoulders like a cape. He toyed with the hem as he said, “Just come by my dorm in about ten minutes; it’s room 313.”

Kuroo agreed and winked at him as Kenma left. Kenma scoffed but smiled when he was out of Kuroo’s line of sight. 

This was unprecedented luck. If sleeping in the same bed and then inviting him to breakfast wasn’t a sign that Kuroo was interested in him, Kenma didn’t know what was. He was kind of shocked that things were working out so well, albeit a bit out of the ordinary in comparison to “normal” romances. However, he was still hesitant. No one had ever shown any romantic interest in him. He wasn’t sure what was real or and his mind created in the haze of first possibly reciprocated love. Not to mention that his anxiety made him question whether anyone really wanted to be around him, regardless if they said outright that they liked being around him. 

Kenma was frowning and lost in his thoughts when he opened his dorm room to Lev’s shit-eating grin.

“Isn’t it a bit late for a walk of shame?” Lev asked cheekily. He was sitting cross-legged on his bed like he was waiting for Kenma to show up.

Kenma felt heat creep up his neck at the insinuation. “We discussed this matter at the beginning of the year,” he muttered, dropping his blanket on his bed.

When they had moved in and were discussing living arrangements, “sleepovers” were brought up. Kenma had outright said he had no interest in those or people in that way and never would. Lev seemed confused but conceded to keep sexual activities out of their room. Even in sharing a bed, Kenma never felt anything sexual towards Kuroo. He had long since figured out that sex was not something he wanted or wanted from others and accepted that despite how unnatural it seemed. 

“You didn’t have to do the do to have a walk of shame,” Lev amended. 

“Nothing happened,” Kenma explained, going through his closet. “He just wanted to show me some music and I fell asleep.”

Lev squinted him but accepted the explanation. Now that the whole “I don’t feel sexual attraction” thing was in play, he seemed suspicious of its veracity. 

Any further questioning was interrupted by Kenma’s obnoxious yet soothing ringtone. He quickly scooped up his phone and accepted the call, abruptly cutting off Rick Astely’s croons. 

“Hello?” he asked hesitantly. He hadn’t checked the caller ID.

“Hello, Kozume-san? This is the academics office. I just wanted to notify you about some concerns about your grades.” The lady seemed a bit uneasy as she continued speaking. “You are failing both chemistry and biology. You have turned in your homework promptly and that has saved you a bit but the information is incorrect and you are not doing well on tests.”

Kenma felt his heart stop. _No._

“You need to get your grade up to at least a D+ or else you may not get credit for these courses,” the lady continued, unaware of Kenma’s reaction.

“Thanks,” he managed to get out. “I’ll try to pull them up.”

The lady wished him luck, said goodbye, and promptly hung up. Kenma dropped his phone on his bed and followed suit.

“Kenma?” Lev asked cautiously. “Is everything alright?”

Kenma shook his head and pressed his lips tightly together. He could feel the anxiety rising up. He had been repressing it the last few days by throwing himself into his schoolwork and cello. Kuroo was also a great distraction since Kenma enjoyed chatting with him and, whether he wanted it or not, Kuroo tended to take up time in his thoughts, too. The full brunt of failing hit him like a volleyball being spiked onto the court.

All jest drained out of Lev. He looked slightly panicked as he inquired, “What is it?”

“I’m failing my classes,” Kenma replied, his voice hollow. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Kenma,” Lev replied. “But you’re trying harder now, right?”

Kenma got up to pace. The anxious energy would not let him sit still. “But I was trying hard before, too.”

“But you’re definitely putting more effort in now. I mean, I helped you and you stay up late studying all the time,” Lev said, trying to calm Kenma down. As his roommate, he was not blind to Kenma’s anxiety. It was kind of hard to miss. 

Kenma felt ill. He paced faster, trying to take deep breaths. “Yeah, I guess,” he said, agreeing though the information didn’t calm him.

“You still have like half the semester to get better,” Lev added. “There’s plenty of time.”

Kenma nodded, running his hands through his hair. Not matter how hard he tried to reason out a good ending, or plan towards one, his mind repeated its worries. 

“And you can take that other lecture next semester to count for neuroscience classes, anyways,” Lev said, running out of ideas. His pale eyebrows were furrowed as he thought of how to comfort his friend.

Kenma nodded again, pacing slowing. He felt like he was walking up steps and expected another step only to miss because he was already on flat ground. He knew that feeling would be with him for a few days, no matter what. He just had to hope nothing would trigger him and work hard at his plan to pass his classes.

“It’s going to be okay, Kenma,” Lev stated, putting a hand on Kenma’s shoulder. “I know you can do this.”

Kenma smiled weakly at Lev’s trust but felt slightly relieved. It was one thing for him to tell himself it was alright but it felt more real and possible if another person, especially one as earnest as Lev, said it. 

“I’m going to go to the bathroom, okay?” Kenma mumbled. He still felt the cold sweat on his skin and his breathing was a little shaky. He was as calm as he was going to get in this situation, which is to say, not at all. He had had his share of human interaction for the day; anymore would only worsen his anxiety. Grabbing a towel and his shower caddy, he disappeared into the hall.

Lev sat back and pouted. He wished he could do more to help Kenma but he knew from past experience that there was nothing he could do at this point. When Kenma was holed up in their room yet again, incapacitated from another anxiety attack, Lev had tried telling him to seek help. Kenma had vehemently refused, saying his anxiety wasn’t interfering and that doctors would only tell him to stop playing video games late at night and to exercise away the stress; in short, he wasn’t ill enough for medicine or medical help. A knock pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Kuroo?” Lev asked, confused when he opened the door. “Why are you here?”

“Me and Kenma were going to go eat,” he replied, rubbing his neck. “Is he there?”

Lev shuffled around. “He’s not feeling very good,” Lev said. He paused then added in a rush, “But he’s gonna be fine so don’t worry. He just needs some time.”

Kuroo looked like a cat pissed in his cereal. “Oh. Are you sure?” he asked, his last bit of hope hanging on.

Lev nodded. “I’m sorry, Kuroo. There’s nothing either of us can do.”

Kuroo ran a hand through his hair. “It’s fine. I- I guess I can come by later.”

“I guess your sleepover last night left him a bit frazzled heh,” Lev joked, winking in a weak attempt at humor. Kuroo didn’t look amused but appreciated the effort. Sticking out his tongue, Kuroo gave a wave and walked away as Lev closed the door. 

Lev felt bad for indirectly ditching Kuroo for Kenma but when Kenma returned an hour later with puffy eyes, he knew he made the right choice. Kenma was even more put off about accidentally blowing off Kuroo and retreated under his blankets and no amount of coercing with promises of video games and apple pie could get him out.

~.~

To: Kozume K.  
From: Trash Cat  
17:23

so are you still coming to our cello lesson tonight? ☜ (Wヮ￣☜) 

Kenma bit his lip. He’d barely seen Kuroo all week. Actually, he’d barely seen anyone. He’d been holing himself up in his dorm room and putting all his anxious energy into studying, stopping only for the occasional bathroom break or to dig out a snack from his stash. The few times he left for a real meal caused exacerbated his anxiety to the point where he would eat as quickly as possible to get out of public faster. Whenever he felt too anxious, he’d goof off on the Internet or play a video game in hopes of calming his frantic mind. 

To: Trash Cat  
From: Kozume K.  
17:25

of course; someone has to teach you how to not sound like a dying cat on cello

After reaching yet another new high score on Grand Theft Auto and replaying the entirety of Dramatical Murder, Kenma decided he needed to get out. He needed to take control of his life from his anxiety again. So despite his gut telling him to stay home, he agrees to continue with Kuroo’s cello lessons.

To: Kozume K.  
From: Trash Cat  
17:26

ill have you know that I practiced and only sound like a drowning cat now ᕦ(▀̿ ̿ -▀̿ ̿ )つ├┬┴┬┴

Kenma snorted. Apologizing profusely, he had still texted Kuroo since their blotched possible date. Kuroo was disappointed at first but was seemed glad that Kenma continued to talk to him. Kenma missed seeing the nerdy music student and was looking forward to hanging out with him again. It made him even happier that his anticipation was only slightly tinged with anxiety. 

To: Trash Cat  
From: Kozume K.  
17:28

what a striking improvement (-_-｡)

To: Kozume K.  
From: Trash Cat  
17:29

( ͡° ʖ̯ ͡°)

In one of Kenma’s late night cruises around the Internet, he had found a whole collection of Unicode emoticons and Kuroo had seized the opportunity to express his dorky and dramatic nature. He had made it his sole purpose to find the weirdest ones to make Kenma laugh. Kenma found it cute in some twisted sense. 

To: Trash Cat  
From: Kozume K.  
17:31

if you pout too much your face is gonna get stuck like that

To: Kozume K.  
From: Trash Cat  
17:32

ヽ༼ ʘ ∧ ʘ ༽ᓄ

Kenma laughed as he neared the music building. His hands were frozen from holding onto his cello and phone since he forgot his gloves. The trees were nearly bare, their crinkly leaves littering the pathways and yellowing grass. Freshly craved pumpkins sat on the stoops of some buildings and paper cutouts of ghosts and skeletons could be found in the windows of the more enthusiastic. 

Stepping into the building, the sharp smell of coffee filled his nose. Around autumn, little coffee stands popped up in all the buildings so students could warm up after a chilly walk to class. Forgoing the caffeinated beverage, Kenma walked to his favorite music room. 

“Hey, Kenma,” Kuroo greeted when the semi-blonde quietly slipped into the room. 

“Hi Kuro,” Kenma said. In the tangle of flying fingers when he was texting Kuroo, he had accidentally misspelled his name by leaving out an “o.” Kuroo teased him about it for days, claiming that Kenma did it on purpose so he could have a special moniker to call Kuroo. It truly was a typo but Kenma secretly liked having a nickname for Kuroo and he suspected the other did, too. Besides, it was only fitting since Kuroo used “pudding head” half the time in reference to Kenma. 

“So, pudding head-sensei, what are we learning today?” Kuroo asked with a smirk. 

“You’re going to learn how to stop being an ass, you lost tube of cork grease,” Kenma said pointedly, lightly slapping Kuroo’s shoulder. 

“That’s a big challenge,” Kuroo commented. His lips stretched into a wicked grin. “Kind of like my a-“

“So these scales,” Kenma cut him off before he could finish his cheap shot of a lewd joke. “I assume you have them mastered by now?”

Kuroo self-satisfied expression dropped into one of fear and guilt faster than a cat running away from a bath. 

“Uh, mm, yep,” Kuroo lied blatantly. 

Kenma allowed himself a small smirk of victory. 

The rest of the lesson progressed as normal; Kuroo would scratch out a few bad notes before getting the hang of playing, Kenma would scold him for not practicing, they would exchange badinage then often ended up with Kuroo getting confused in his lengthy and convoluted jokes and metaphors. At the end, Kenma played a song for Kuroo, still feeling apologetic about canceling their date. Kuroo looked amazed and was delighted to listen. Kenma played a cover of [“Radioactive”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QoC_F7iQ_dg) by Imagine Dragons, knowing that Kuroo would recognize the popular song from the radio. Kuroo identified the song immediately and applauded him when he wrapped up. 

While Kuroo was putting his music away, Kenma sat on a desk and his phone buzzed with a new e-mail. It was from his biology professor. He furrowed his brows. _I’ve done all my homework and turned it in. I think I might have even understood the last one I did, too. Why is she e-mailing me?_ He tapped the screen and quickly scanned the first lines, anxiety resurfacing. 

_Dear Kozume-san,_

_There is a matter that has come to my attention and, while I do not wish to intrude on your personal choices and life, as a professor who wishes the best for her students, I must voice a concern._

_You are barely passing my class, even with my extra office hours and outside study. I confirmed with your chemistry professor that you are doing similarly in his class. It is our joint agreement that you should reconsider your major in neuroscience. With these grades, there is very little chance that you can meet the requirements for the major. I am very sorry…_

The message continued but Kenma stopped reading. He could hear his heart in his ears. His breath hitched and caused his hands to shake. _This can’t be happening._ He had received a call last week from the academics office telling him that he was on the brink of failing chemistry and biology but he didn’t think he was doing so bad that his professors wanted him to switch majors. He had been staying up late studying and had even convinced Yaku and sometimes Lev to help him. Still, he received bad grades and was behind the rest of the class. He had even stopped attending as the advanced material only confused him further. 

Kenma felt like his whole life was crashing around him and it was all his fault. His parents would disown him for failing like this. They’d be disgusted that he couldn’t even do well enough to be allowed to maintain his major. His friends and acquaintances would look at him from a distance and shake their heads, disappointed that he couldn’t even pass a couple of easy classes. He would be the shame of the school. Even aside that, what would he do with his life? Kenma didn’t have a backup plan in case he failed neuroscience; it was his only hope. 

“Kenma?” Kuroo called softly. “Are you okay? You’ve been staring at the floor for the past five minutes.”

Kenma opened his mouth to reply. He cleared his throat and tried to sound calm. “I’m fine.” It sounded airy like he was inhaling, which thankfully hid the quaver. He crossed his arms and subtly pinched his sides. He often did this in hopes that the pain would distract him.

“No, you’re not,” Kuroo said flatly. “You look paler than Caspar the ghost and your hands were shaking. I can hear you breathing weirdly, too.”

Kenma tried to take deep breaths and dug his nails harder into his sides. He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling and blinking to keep tears from falling. “I’m fine,” he repeated. His voice shook like a wet cat. _Please not now, please not here. Just let me get to my room._

Kuroo stepped closer and reached out a hand. He stopped short of resting it on Kenma’s shoulder, letting it drop instead. “Is it something I did or said? I’m sorry,” he said worriedly.

Kenma closed his eyes. Kuroo at least deserved to know this wasn’t his fault. “’S not you.” _Please don’t let me panic here, oh god. Kuroo does not deserve to have to deal with this shit. He can be an ass but he’s a good guy._

“Is it something I can help with? I can’t just leave you here like this,” Kuroo insisted. 

Kenma let out a ragged breath and shook his head. _Please don’t be nice to me now, I don’t know how to handle that. Just be mean and leave. It’s too much to have someone care._ He would probably have bruises from the force he was applying on his sides but he didn’t care. He could not break down here. Not in front of Kuroo. Kuroo would never talk to him again and if he did, he would talk like walking on eggshells. Kenma would never forgive himself.

Arms shaking from the force he was using to hurt himself, Kenma tried counting to four repeatedly. He doesn’t know when he started doing that but it comforted him. However, his jagged breathing and speeding heartbeat made him count quickly and he couldn’t slow down. He felt completely out of control of himself and was terrified. Suddenly, hesitant hands pressed his back and Kenma leaned forward against a warm chest. Kuroo rubbed small circles on his back.

“It’s going to be okay,” Kuroo whispered. 

The shock was quick. Kenma had not expected Kuroo to do anything to comfort him. The surprise was rapidly replaced with a flood of emotions. Kenma broke down and sobbed. He wailed and wheezed. He hated and feared how panicked and desperate his sobs were. He couldn’t do anything to stop the tears and that only scared him more. It was like a horrifying cycle. He hyperventilated and feared he would pass out so he held his breath only to have his diaphragm betray him with hiccups. It was disgusting and terrifying. 

Kuroo didn’t leave. He only kept murmuring comforting words and rubbing Kenma’s back. Slowly, Kenma felt himself calm down. Sometimes he could breathe normally only to be hit with another wave of panic and crying. _You can’t full on panic for more than a half hour straight,_ he thought in between waves. Eventually, he managed to breathe regularly for a longer time and the waves of panic were gradually less violent. 

Resting his head on Kuroo’s shoulder, Kenma counted his breathing. He closed his eyes. His throat felt rough and he had a headache. _That’s definitely the worst one so far._ He was relieved to be done panicking but was still anxious because now he had to deal with Kuroo. He leaned back, rubbing his hands over his face in attempt to look presentable. 

“Hold on,” Kuroo said. “I have tissues.” Not fully letting go of Kenma, he reached one hand into his pocket and produced a little pack of tissues. Kenma took them silently and tried to wipe away the tear tracks and snot.

“I’m sorry about your shirt,” Kenma said quietly. 

Kuroo waved it away. “It’s fine. What I’m concerned about is you. What happened?”

Kenma sighed. He felt empty. “My professors think I should switch majors because there’s no way I can fulfill the grade requirements.”

Kuroo sucked in a sharp breath. “That sucks. I’m really sorry.”

Kenma nodded, too exhausted to talk. 

“Doesn’t mean it can’t be fixed, though,” Kuroo said, tucking a piece of Kenma’s hair behind his ear.

Kenma gave a weak laugh. _If only it were that easy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY FOR WRITING THAT I FEEL SO MEAN. *Puts a blanket on ur shoulder and hands u a cookie* all will be well, go watch some cute animal videos and listen to pretty music
> 
> I had such a hard time writing this again ugh like I felt like i was missing everyone's personality entirely and couldn't make they're words and actions seem _them_ like just when i would grasp them they would slip out of my fingers I'm so ugh
> 
> Also, [Prince17](http://archiveofourown.org/users/prince17/pseuds/prince17) showed me [this](http://theragdollman.tumblr.com/post/81358323653/angryseawitch-furrick-wendygirlyoumoveme) song and it is literally Kenma and Hinata's relationship, I love it and thanks again to them for showing me it lol
> 
> cOMMent and yEll at me on tumblr @hipster-yams


	7. College Kids Are Like Overgrown Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroken play pool and get deep, kagehina makes an appearance, and kuroo tries to save the day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE RETURNED. I'm so sorry, this chapter is long, long overdue but college takes up so much time. I swear the next chapter won't take this long and might be a longer in content heh
> 
> BLESS MY DEAR SWEET very short SHITPOST OF A MEME BETA
> 
> Also thank you so much for the wonderful reception of this fic! Y'all's comments keep me writing

“Great shot.”

Kuroo leaned up from the pool table, cue stick sliding through his loose fist to thump on the carpet. Kenma stood to the side, hiding a smirk behind his hand. Kuroo had been aiming to knock the eleven-ball into a corner pocket and missed, hitting all sides of the table instead. 

This was their third game of pool, with Kenma taking all the wins. Though he didn’t want to admit it, the wins were less because of his skill and more because Kuroo kept accidentally hitting the eight ball in.

Music always flowed quietly in the background. The DJ was different every day so various genres played; musical themes, kpop, rap, orchestral, you name it. One time the DJ had selected instrumental Disney songs and Kenma swears he could see every student moving their lips to the lyrics. The lighting was dim enough to be intimate but bright enough to read dense textbooks. 

They started coming to this lounge after dinner since it was in the same building and they were both reluctant to take the long walk back to their dorm through the cold wind. At first, Kenma wasn’t sure about playing billiards; virtual settings were more his style. After a lot of wheedling and teasing, Kuroo convinced him to play. The game required more strategy and less physical prowess than Kenma thought. He wouldn’t admit it but he started to enjoy it. Especially when he beat Kuroo. 

Kuroo huffed. “Your turn.”

Kenma walked around to the cue ball and leaned close to the table to point his stick in the correct direction. It was a clear shot for the seven ball into a side pocket. 

“Nice ass.”

Kenma’s shot barely struck the cue ball over the top. It rolled a few inches before stopping, about a foot shy of its target. 

“What did you just say?” Kenma spluttered. 

Kuroo shrugged, picture of innocence. “I said ‘Nice shot.’”

Kenma squinted at him but stayed quiet. Not like he was going to suggest that Kuroo complimented his butt and risk actually being wrong.

They hadn’t spoken about the incident yesterday. Kuroo had quietly walked Kenma back to his dorm after he calmed down. At the door, Kuroo had said that if Kenma needed anything or wanted to talk, he was a text away. Kenma had nodded mutely and retreated to his bed. He quickly fell asleep from the exhaustion but woke up often from nightmares. He honestly just wanted to forget about his panic attack. He wasn’t sure how to deal with his problems but a day of rest before tackling that again seemed fair. 

Kuroo sat up on the pool table and took a shot from behind his back. The eleven ball shot into the pocket. He grinned and looked at Kenma.

“Show off,” Kenma muttered. 

Chuckling, Kuroo hopped off the table and twirled his cue stick. His hand brushed against Kenma’s as he walked past to take aim again.

For his part, Kuroo hadn’t brought up Kenma’s incident yesterday either. The topic of school was strategically avoided. Even their botched “date” hadn’t been brought up. His eyebrows had scrunched together with worry when he first seen Kenma today but he said nothing. However, Kenma noticed that Kuroo was trying harder to make him happy and they had more casual touches. 

Kuroo stuck out his tongue in concentration as he aimed his shot. With a quick jerk of the arm, the cue ball rebounded off the wall, grazed eight ball, and dropped neatly into a pocket. 

Grinning, Kenma clapped slowly. “Impressive.”

Kuroo strolled up to him, leaning forward casually on his cue stick. A lazy smile spread across his lips. 

“You think you can do better?”

Kenma inhaled and the room fell away. It was just him and Kuroo and the tiny amount of space between them. Kenma eyes flickered down to Kuroo’s mouth and back up. He refused to break eye contact this time and for once it wasn’t hard to maintain. He admired the shape of Kuroo’s eyes and the flecks of gold in the dark brown. His eyelashes brushed his cheekbones as he blinked and oh _shit_ , his face was getting close.

Kenma stumbled over his cue stick. He was trying to step closer but he had been holding his cue diagonally. He looked away and coughed, letting his hair slip from behind his ear. 

“Uh.” 

Kuroo paused then smiled softly. His eyes flickered above Kenma’s head and his gentle smile transformed into a mischievous smirk. It was lessened by the sprinkle of pink over his cheeks.

“Ah, two owls in the wild,” Kuroo commented. 

Kenma turned around, searching for said birds. He was grateful that Kuroo was carefully ignoring his mishap. He didn’t know what he would do if he had to make conversation after that almost kiss. 

“Hey hey hey, Akaashi.” A tall and muscular guy approached the bar. (Well it was, in furniture terms, technically a bar but they didn’t sell alcohol; only smoothies and ice cream). His spiked grey and white hair was definitely owl-like. 

“What is it Bokuto-san?” The man behind the counter looked up. He was polishing a glass cup and his hands continued to fidget with his rag. 

_Ahh, so this is the Bokuto Kuroo was talking to that night,_ Kenma recognized. He flinched internally realizing that he would have to play dumb since neither of the two knew Kenma was in the lounge that night.

“There’re 206 bones in the human body but I got 207 for you,” Bokuto said unabashedly.

Kenma snorted quietly. “Wow, that’s not forward at all.”

Kuroo chuckled, quickly looking at Kenma. “Just wait.”

Akaashi sighed and put down his cup. "You should get that checked out," he said flatly though Kenma could see the corner of his mouth twitch.

“You should check me out too, Akaashi."

With a slight cough poorly masking a laugh, Akaashi turned away and put a hand to his mouth. 

Kenma looked quizzically at Kuroo. He had heard that Akaashi was a quiet, no nonsense person who worked very hard on his studies.

“Akaashi is a sucker for bad pickup lines,” Kuroo explained. He walked around the table and started batting in the leftover balls. “Bokuto, that’s the one with the ridiculous hair, found out and now he always tries lines on him. Akaashi complains but he obviously loves it.”

Kenma hummed in acknowledgment and placed his cue stick in the holding rack. 

“Maybe you have a weakness like that,” Kuroo said, dropping his cue stick next to Kenma’s. “Some deep secret no one knows.”

Kenma raised his eyebrows. 

“Is that a challenge?”

Kenma stepped around Kuroo. “If you want it to be,” he said casually. 

Kuroo followed Kenma out of the lounge, the hipster music fading behind them. He tapped his lips in thought. 

“Do you wanna go for a walk?” Kuroo suggested. “I don’t have any pressing work to do if you don’t.” 

_Only the repair work for my life that’s falling apart a little bit more each second._ Kenma opened his mouth to retort and nearly stopped himself. “I think you just want an excuse to talk to me more.” The words were past his lips before he could even process the flirtatious connotation. 

Kuroo held the door out and the cool twilight air blew in. Crispy leaves crackled and rolled across the threshold, scratching on the concrete and carpet. “Is that so bad?”

Kenma ducked through the door to avoid answering. _I don’t know how to be consciously flirty or even just not awkward as fuck._ He paused in the center of the courtyard. “So, uhm, where are we going?” _Smooth._

“Well, if I’m gonna beat this challenge, I guess we should take the longest route, right?” Kuroo said.

Kenma scoffed but followed him away from the dorms. “You’re so blatant,” he mumbled with a smile. 

“So how do I start?” Kuroo looked pensively at the sky. “How about an upfront ‘What’s your deep dark secret?’”

Kenma snorted quietly. “Try harder, Casanova.”

“Maybe you’re a sucker for pickup lines, too?” Kuroo suggested. 

“Try me,” Kenma said sarcastically. 

Kuroo fussed around in his pocket for a minute. “Here, open your hand; I have something to give you.”

Kenma looked quizzically at the taller man but complied, holding his hand out. Kuroo placed a loose fist in his open palm. Kenma waited for the weight of the object to drop into his hand but none came. Instead, Kuroo spread out his fingers, fitting them neatly in between Kenma’s own, effectively holding his hand. 

Kuroo smirked as Kenma gaped in surprise. 

“Am I smooth now?” Kuroo asked.

“As sandpaper,” Kenma snapped. He kept holding his hand. He felt a warm and suffocating feeling sneak over his heart and he didn’t want it to go away. 

Kuroo grinned, eyes crinkling in the corners and his whole face lighting up. He glanced behind Kenma and his smirk broadens.

Kenma turned around, searching for whatever gave rise to the mischievous look on Kuroo’s face. He spotted the playground the college had built last year. It was supposed to help relieve stress. Everything was scaled up for the proportions of gangly college students. Kenma felt a little ball of childish excitement form in his belly. 

Kuroo looked at him, eyes sparkling with amusement and anticipation. Kenma nodded and they redirected their course towards the park.

The structures were originally stainless steel and beige, the paint chipping off. The Queer Union and Art Society took up a campaign to repaint and reclaim it. They had completed their masterpiece in the summer. The swing set was red, orange, and yellow and the nearby slide and monkey bars were blue, green, and purple. There was a short climbing wall that was black with rainbow paint splatters. The main structure was black and white on the outside but the walls on the inside where covered in various paintings. This wasn’t an original part of the project but rather something that was slowly added. Students would creep by in the night with cans of paint and express themselves of the plastic and metal walls. It was a hodge podge of different styles and colors but beautiful. 

Kenma stopped in front of the swings. Their school had them put in to relieve stress and the seats were adjusted to the lanky legs of college students. They overlooked a field where people play games or lounged in the sun when it was warm. To the side, there was a copse of trees with their dead leaves just barely hanging on to the scraggly branches. Just behind the building in front was their dorm. He located the driest looking swing and plopped down on it while Kuroo hung from the monkey bars. Their handhold broken easily though Kenma was a bit sad to lose that warmth. 

“I feel like we just regress in age as we get older,” Kenma commented. He dug his toes into the mulch to push himself before using his legs and arms to propel himself. The chains were painfully cold under his palms.

“Becoming an adult is a lie,” Kuroo agreed. “No one actually knows what they’re doing.” He swung from the bars, easily grabbing onto the next one. Kenma huffed to himself, both impressed and jealous of Kuroo’s strength.

“That’s both comforting and terrifying.”

Kuroo let go in the middle and gently dropped to the ground. “As is life,” he said with a shrug.

“It’s too early to be getting this philosophical and deep.”

Kuroo smiled and slumped into the swing next to him. He effortlessly started pumping his legs. “So then, what’s you favorite color?’

Kenma tried to raise his eyebrows but he and Kuroo were moving at opposite swings and the expression had little effect. “That’s a sudden change in topic.”

“Well, you are the one who suggested it.” Kenma couldn’t see his face because he was swinging behind him but he could hear the smirk and amusement in his voice. 

Kenma flinched. He hadn’t meant to change the subject; he was only commenting on the nature of it. His shoulders sagged at his mistake. He wanted to know more about Kuroo. He wanted to have deep and meaningful talks and know all his secrets and feelings. He had had the chance and unknowingly brushed it aside. Regret filled his stomach. _Why can’t I just have_ one _conversation go the way I wanted it to?_

Resigning himself to his failed hopes, Kenma answered, “Orange, like the sunset.”

Kuroo nodded or maybe he was just swinging his body for momentum. “Mine is red. Not primary red but, like, darker. Not quite wine or burgundy though; more like ruby red.”

Kenma smiled. What an art nerd. 

“What about your favorite food?” Kuroo asked. The chains of his swings went slack as he reach the apex of his swing. Kenma felt fear for him of falling.

“Apple pie, I guess,” Kenma mumbled. “What about you?”

“Salted and grilled mackerel pike,” Kuroo answered immediately. “Favorite season?”

Kenma felt like he has filling out one of those tag memes on Tumblr. He’s never been properly tagged in one but he’s filled them out anyways, usually deleting them before the day was over. It felt embarrassing to post it without being actually tagged though many people who were tagged often wrote that anyone could do it. It felt like a bedraggled indirect invite that wasn’t meant to be followed through. However, having Kuroo directly ask him these mundane questions was strangely pleasantly inviting. It warmed the cockles of his heart to know that someone he honestly wanted to know more about him, even the mundane. _It’s nice just to have some I care care about me too,_ Kenma thought with painful relief and melancholy. 

“Fall,” Kenma replied after a minute.

“Because all the leaves turn orange and red?” Kuroo asked. Kenma was enjoyably amused that Kuroo remembered his favorite color; these answers felt like they would be stored in short-term memory, forgotten just seconds after the words entered the atmosphere. 

“Yes,” Kenma drawled. “But also because it’s not too cold nor too warm. Plus I like to wear sweaters.”

Kuroo hummed in agreement. “I still prefer summer though. I love the heat and being able to go outside without freezing off my fingers. There’s more free time, too.”

Kenma nodded. He’s never as busy as when he is in classes and always preparing a paper or completing homework. He rarely has time to even breathe. 

“But then again, during the semester, I can see all my friends; most of them live too far away for me to casually visit.” Kuroo swung while lying back, hands straining at the chains from the force. 

Kenma slowed his swings and nodded slowly. He had a few acquaintances and friends and enjoyed their presence. Going home meant having to deal with his parents fighting over everything and bickering like children. It meant having to deal with their constant insults and disappointment. He much preferred being at school, despite the pressure from classes. 

They continued like this for a while, Kuroo asking questions like a personality quiz on Buzzfeed. Kenma enjoyed hearing his answers. Not everything was a big deal but that’ didn’t matter; life doesn’t have to be dramatic 100% of the time. The little facts about him still made up his personality and influenced how he acted. That was what Kenma wanted to understand. 

“Hey, do you think I can stand on this swing?” Kuroo inquired. He had been running out of questions, even with Kenma supplying a few. 

“Theoretically, yes. Realistically, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Kenma’s legs and arms had grown tired of swings so he just let the wind and his body carry his small sways. Kuroo had been attempting different risky looking maneuvers. 

“Let’s put that to the test,” he replied. He dug his heel into the mulch, slowing him enough that he could bend his knee and planted his foot on the swing. He reached up with his hands, gripping the chains as he pulled himself up. His knees wobbled and the swing spun erratically but he wrestled with the chains enough to support himself. He looked at Kenma with a smirk and wriggled his eyebrows in victory.

Kenma snorted and rolled his eyes.

Kuroo opened his mouth to reply. Suddenly, the swing quavered and he lost his balance. He jumped off and the swing hit his butt. He laughed nervously as he steadied himself.

“Elegant.”

“I try.”

Kenma delicately stepped off his swing while it was at its highest. He rubbed his hands together for heat. After clutching that metal chain, his fingers were numb. 

“Favorite musical composition?” Kuroo asked over his shoulder as he climbed the steps to the main structure.

“That’s an illegal question and you know it,” Kenma countered. He quickly hopped up the steps.

Kuroo chuckled. “Is not.” He crossed the loud bridge to the center tower.

“Is too.” Kenma carefully followed him, wary of the strength of the thin bridge.

Kuroo bent down to examine a koi fish someone had painted on the wall. It was done in an impressionist style but only used four colors. The brushstrokes were raised and messy but it was beautiful. 

“Is not,” Kuroo said strolling away.

“Is too,” Kenma quickly huffed and marched away, towards the center tower while Kuroo inspected the art near the slide. 

Flags of countries that had suffered recent tragedies were painted alongside crude dicks and richly colored portraits and abstract pieces. A giant owl in flight hovered over a small forest and the pyramids of Giza. Its wings were filled with quotes: “I don’t want to die without any scars.” “My flower is up there somewhere.” “I am not my mental illness.” “Writers are always selling someone out.” It was striking and gorgeous. A tiny constellation of the Big Dipper hid in between an iridescent beetle and the blacked-out outline of two people playing leapfrog. Someone had painted in cursive handwriting across the top, “Undiscover’d Country.”

Kenma climbed the short steps under the tower and looked up. The inside of the roof was covered in signatures and dates. A Sharpie was clipped to the bottom edge of the roof with the words “Join us!” in a word bubble pointing at it. 

“Should we?”

Kenma gasped loudly and jumped. He slapped his hand over his pounding heart and glared at Kuroo. “Jesus Christ, I need to get you a bell or something like a cat so I know where the fuck you are; you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Kuroo snickered and apologized. Kenma did not believe his false sincerity for one second. Well, okay, maybe for a couple seconds.

Kenma scoffed and tried to pluck the Sharpie out of its clip. His fingers fell several inches too short. Kuroo reached over his and easily popped it out, handing it to Kenma. Kenma made a face and him but thanked him. 

Looking up, he searched for an empty space. Upon finding one (near the tip of the triangular ceiling), he remembered he was too short to reach it. He sighed and looked up at Kuroo. He smiled and rolled his eyes because he knew this would happen.

“Get on my shoulders; even I can’t reach that high up,” Kuroo said. 

Kenma had Nam flashbacks to the last time he was on someone’s shoulders. The grass rushing up to meet his face, Lev smiling with a bloody nose, and the damn cat running away, completely carefree. 

“Uh.” Kenma’s face pinched together with worry.

“I won’t drop you, I swear,” Kuroo said seriously and with painful earnestness. 

Kenma took a deep breath and nodded. Kuroo crouched down, arms akimbo. Kenma stepped close and slid his legs over his shoulders. Kuroo firmly gripped on his calves and stood up. This is strangely intimate and weirdly pleasing. Kenma clutched his hair but neither of them wobbled. 

“My hair’s gonna be a mess after this,” Kuroo muttered.

“Your hair’s always a mess.”

Kuroo swatted his ankle. “I try to tame it,” he whined. “It’s like a monster.”

Kenma chuckled and loosened his grip. He uncapped the pen with his teeth, holding the cap in his mouth. _This is probably very unhygienic,_ he thought.

“What should I write?” he asked, the cap running his words together.

“You should have thought of that before getting up there,” Kuroo joked. 

Kenma tsk-ed around the cap.

“How about something to do with music?” Kuroo proposed. “What about that meme with the staff that spells out ‘cabbage’?”

Kenma snorted a laugh, almost spitting out the cap. He rested his hand on the blank space and felt the cold of the plastic sink into his palm. He wracked his brain for short quotes or snippets of songs that he knew the notes to. One stuck out. He scribbled it in his most legible chicken scratch and signed with ‘K.K.  & K.T.”. He felt like a cheesy couple in a Disney movie, like some tacky bubblegum pop song was going to start playing slowly. He smiled guiltily to himself for imagining him and Kuroo as a couple. _Don’t get your hopes up, Kenma._ He capped the Sharpie and clipped it back to the roof, ready for the next delinquents to contribute to the mess of quotes and names and dates and hearts.

Kuroo slowly lowered himself and Kenma slipped off his back. They both looked up to admire Kenma’s handiwork.

“’Music is a world within itself’?” Kuroo asked, squinting into the dark of the top of the roof. “That’s really sappy.”

Kenma shoved him with his shoulder. The movement hid his red face. “It was all I could think of; shut up.”

Kuroo grinned. “Naw, it’s cool; I like it. It’s a small treasure in an unexpected place.”

Kenma let a small smile grow on his lips. They stood in a comfortable silence as they read all the signs of other people like themselves who just wanted to leave a mark on the world in any way possible. 

“Well now that we’ve tested out all the toys and defaced them, do you wanna head back?” Kuroo murmured.

“Fuck yes; my fingers are freezing and I need those.”

Kuroo’s obnoxious laughter filled the air and, if you listened carefully, you could hear Kenma’s airy giggle.

~.~

With his level of concentration, one might think Hinata was working hard on an essay or paper. In reality, he was playing a video game Kenma had told him about. The newest part of the game was coming out in a few weeks so he had to beat this one and do well enough to challenge Kenma’s score.

Hinata scooted around in his seat, sitting sideways in the chair. His feet kicked the side as he typed on his laptop. He was hanging out in the basement of science building. It was a calm space with few people. Hinata could hear the echoes of people talking down the halls and smell popcorn from the floors above. The biology major lounge had a popcorn machine and it ran practically 24/7. 

“Hinata, you look stupid with your tongue sticking out like that.”

Shouyou dragged his sight up from the game after pausing it. Kageyama stood in front of him.

“I look concentrated,” Hinata corrected. “That way they can’t kick me out for playing video games cuz they think I’m doing work.”

“How about you actually do your homework with that kind of enthusiasm?” Kageyama said but it had no bite. He fell into the chair next to Shouyou with a loud thump. He rested his ankles on Hinata’s knees. 

“What’s got you looking so pissy?” Hinata asked. He jiggled his legs to shake Kageyama off but stopped when it only succeeded in knocking his computer around. It wasn’t actually bothersome or uncomfortable to have Kageyama resting on him. 

“I broke up with my girlfriend,” he stated bluntly. As was Kageyama’s way.

Hinata’s fingers paused over the keyboard. His character died but he didn’t really care. 

Kageyama toyed with his hoodie string. The aglet was already split and the yarn frayed. He didn’t seem sad. 

“I’m sorry?” Hinata came up with at last. He was sad that Kageyama had dumped his girlfriend; she was a nice girl. He only met her a couple times but she seemed studious and caring. 

“Don’t be. ” Kageyama dropped the sting and finally looked at Hinata. “She agreed it wasn’t gonna go anywhere.” 

A turmoil of emotions fell on Shouyou’s tongue. Sadness for the relationship not working out, happiness that it wasn’t on bad terms, desire to comfort Kageyama, and, beneath it all, this fierce hope that maybe his feelings wouldn’t be wasted on Kageyama after all. He tried to suppress that faulty joy. 

“Guess you weren’t what she expected, huh?” Hinata joked. 

Kageyama punched his shoulder.

Hinata laughing nervously but the noise quickly died in throat. “She just wasn’t a good mix with you; it doesn’t mean you’re unlikable or anything,” he said in a small voice while looking at his computer screen. It had just gone black with inactivity. 

Kageyama chewed his lip. His eyes flickered over Hinata’s round face and traced the wild curls and whorls of his hair. 

Feeling like he had said too much and exposed himself, Hinata smacked Kageyama on the shoulder. “Don’t tell me you all of a sudden care about these kinds of things, Yamayama-kun.”

Kageyama knocked his ankle into Hinata’s calf in retaliation. “Of course not.” 

Hinata closed his laptop and gently plopped it on the carpet. “Then why are you so broody?” he asked, leaning in his knees.

Kageyama shrugged. When he found the words he wanted, he would tell Shouyou. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Hinata prodded, curious and slightly worried. He played with Kageyama’s shoelaces. 

Kageyama leaned over and placed his hands over Hinata’s to stop him. Shouyou ran his fingers over Kageyama’s knuckles and palms. Tobio didn’t move his hands away.

“She also broke up with me because I spend a lot of time with you,” he muttered. 

“I’m your best friend! Of course we spend a lot of time together,” Shouyou exclaimed. “You’re my competitor and my partner.”

Withdrawing his hands, Kageyama looked away. He knew Hinata was right. 

“If she’s so possessive like that, I’m happy you two broke up.” 

“Me too.” Kageyama sat back and looked at the skylight. The sunlight gave his face planes of shadow and brightened his blue eyes. His hair shone and his skin was smooth, only a tiny dimple from his smile. Hinata traced the lines of his face with his eyes, following Kageyama’s thin eyebrows to his short eyelashes and down his nose and up the curve of his lips. _He’s so pretty_ , Shouyou sighed.

Kageyama looked forward and locked eyes with Shouyou. Hinata wasn’t sure what Tobio was feeling but the opia was strong and strange. His pupils were bottomless and glinting and Hinata couldn’t force his mouth to work and spit out words to dispel the intense feeling.

“Work on your essay, dumbass; it’s due in a couple days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I learned anything in creative writing, it's to put your plot problems in the story : ^ )
> 
> I've written so much in the last few day omg like my brain is still in WRITE OR DIE mode from school and my hands are like ok boss
> 
> and I've finally starting working more towards the style I want, I'm so excited aaaaaa
> 
> scream at me on tumblr @hipster-yams


	8. You Music Nerds and Your Fancy Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma is a music nerd, Kageyama is a hopeless sap, and Lev eats like his stomach is a black hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bruised the base of my palm halfway through writing this so the part that rest on my keyboard when I type kept bouncing and hitting the bruise like this chapter was physically painful to write but yEEEEE I'm excited for it because we're getting deeper into the plot
> 
> layers like an onion donkey
> 
> BLESS MY BETA ILY THANKS FOR STAYING UP TILL 4AM TO SEND TEMMIE TO COLLEG AND GET TEMMIE ARMOR
> 
> Also I made a mix!! [hERE!!](http://8tracks.com/hipster-yams/saltwater-room)

Kenma felt his stomach vibrate. He frowned in confusion. He had just eaten an entire plate of eggs and fried potatoes and was starting on a bowl of yogurt and granola. The cappuccino machine was broken so he had a mug of black coffee with an unhealthy amount of sugar. He had even had some fruit. Why would his stomach be complaining? 

It buzzed again and Kenma reached into his hoodie pocket and located the source of the feeling. Someone was texting him. He squinted at the screen as he chugged the disgusting coffee. Sadly, his wallet can only take so many lattes from the Crème Pot and his meal plan was free. Well, it felt free when he only had to scan his ID to enter the cafeteria; he had felt the pain of the price before the semester had even begun, along with the cost of his tuition and board. _Might as well use those meals instead of having the college get any more money from me,_ Kenma reasoned. _Even at risk of having to forsake the delicious lattes for this piss water._

To: Kozume K.  
From: Trash Cat  
08:46

you at breakfast?

Kenma smacked his lips, the taste of watery coffee heavy on his tongue. He took a bite of his yogurt to cover up the flavor. 

To: Trash Cat  
From: Kozume K.  
08:47

ye

Returning to his yogurt, Kenma stared at the rest of the cafeteria. Students rushed to and fro, holding plates of fruit, eggs, cereal, and pastries. Some shuffled along in their pajamas, other marched in exercise gear, their hair still wet from their morning showers, and a few were well dressed and put together. The tables on the edges seated one or two people who read newspapers or articles for class, stopping every few seconds to highlight something of importance. The center tables seated more and those people laughed and joked, somehow awake at this ungodly hour. 

Kenma was sat at the bar, his coat draped over the stool next to him. On the other side were tall tables reserved for those who brought their own food and didn’t use a meal swipe. Next to him was a girl furiously typing on her laptop and after her, a man had five plates of food and was steadily working his way through them. Kenma usually ate at the bar, though sometimes Shouyou would invite him to his table. Their schedules often clashed so these occurrences were rare. 

“Good morning, Pudding Head,” Kuroo greeted. 

“Mornin’,” Kenma replied, voice sticky with sleep. He moved his jacket, dropping it over the counter. It would be another cup of coffee before he was awake enough to properly communicate. 

Kuroo had a plate of melon, a muffin, and mug of beige beverage. Probably tea since the string was hanging over the edge; Kenma had had breakfast enough times with Kuroo recently that his choice in foods had become predictable. 

“How was your night?” Kuroo asked after Kenma had drained his mug of caffeine. _He must have notice I really don’t function with coffee, huh._

“Long. I stayed up until midnight studying for my chem test today,” Kenma sighed. “How about you?”

Kuroo dipped his head. “Same, except with music theory.”

Kenma nodded. He made the long journey across the cafeteria to refill his coffee and rejoined Kuroo. They lapsed into a silence, a mutual and contented one. Kenma liked how Kuroo didn’t always feel the need to fill the air with meaningless chatter and small talk. 

Kuroo folded his muffin wrapper into a triangle before asking, “We have music theory and chem at the same time, right?” Kenma nodded. “And we don’t have any classes after that so do you wanna grab a celebratory coffee after? Ya know, for surviving our tests?”

Kenma cleared his throat. “Sure.” _This is not a date, okay, at myself calm down, it’s too early for this much anxiety and emotion._

Alas, it’s never too early for anxiety. After they went their separate ways to class, Kenma felt the familiar fear and nervousness sink into his body. He twitched and moved just a little too fast when he had to pick up a pen or pass a paper. He felt his breathing speed up and his hands shake a little while he was writing notes. He tried focus on his breathing and count them like a self-help post once said. Nothing really helped. 

By the time chemistry rolled around, Kenma was in a fit. He had studied for three days and in between classes. His arms were cold and fingers twitched. The classroom door slamming as each student entered made him jump. He felt like he was drowning in his own fear of failing this test. He _had_ to do well. The thought kept repeating in his mind and nothing could silence its veracity. This test could save his grade in this class. 

The thick sheaf of paper was dropped in front of him. He scribbled his name on the blank back and waited for the professor’s command. Once time was started, he ripped open the packet. He let go of his breath. He actually understood the first few pages and could probably bullshit the last few problems. Kenma felt his limbs mess in joy and his heart rate calm down in relief. He was one of the last ones to finish but he felt good about this test. A true rare feeling. He walked out feeling light. Even the anxiety of being alone with Kuroo couldn’t hurt him now. 

He bounced down the stairs, his bag, heavy with notes and his laptop, thumping against his back. He found Kuroo seated in the lobby of the science building, waiting for him. 

“How’d ya do?” Kuroo asked, with a smile and worried eyebrows. 

“I think I did well,” he replied with a little smile. _I’m not sure if I’ve ever smiled in this building,_ he thought offhandedly. “How was your test?”

“I may have made a few mistakes but at least a solid 85,” Kuroo answered. 

Kenma nodded, feeling pleased for the both of them.

“Are you ready to get coffee?” Kuroo asked, pulling his backpack onto his shoulders. “It’s on me.”

Kenma hummed in approval and gratitude. 

On the blustery walk over to the nearby Crème Pot (a café they both love, go figure), Kuroo recounted his day. It was someone’s birthday in his history class so they brought in cupcakes and sang before discussing medieval Russia. In his English class, they learned about the past perfect tense. This topic made Kuroo wrinkle his nose and quickly move onto another topic. He managed to slip in some time to practice cello, leaning close to Kenma to watch his reaction. Kenma tried to keep his expression neutral and only felt the corner of his lip twitch a bit from keeping in his giggles. 

The familiar storefront came into view. The entire building was white and paneled. The awning was cream with red edges and the white metal chairs were chained together since no one was using them in this weather. The wooden sign was shaped like a cubby teapot. The paint was chipping a little and swung in the breeze. The inside was cozy. There were old coffee and espresso machines adorning the walls, their metal rusted and tarnished. Black and white photos of the original shop and its humble upbringing hung next to color images of famous visitors. The floorboards creaked familiarly under their steps as he and Kuroo waited in line. 

Kenma frowned. The barista working the machine was Yuki. Kuroo raised an eyebrow but Kenma waved it away. I’ll explain later.

Kenma walked up to the register and ordered a large latte, whole milk and no sugar, please. Kuroo swept in and added his medium iced caramel brulé cappuccino. He handed over his card, giving Kenma a small smile. Guess he was keeping that promise that coffee would be on him. 

Once their respectively hot and freezing paper cups of caffeine were delivered, they sat in two fluffy sofas near the window. Kenma held his cup tenderly, tapping his fingers on it. It was way too hot to drink, let alone hold. He mindlessly stroked the side of the cardboard cozy, enjoying the warmth. 

“So why did you look annoyed when we walked in?” Kuroo asked. He pulled the straw out of his drink and used it to scoop whipped cream into his mouth. 

“Yuki is working the machine; he always makes the drinks too hot,” Kenma explained. He tested his drink, bringing the edge to his lips and just barely tipping it. The scalding drops of liquid trickled over his lip and his tongue recoiled. 

“Rin always makes them too cold, like lukewarm but he always uses the right milk. Hiro makes them perfect temperature but uses whatever milk he left on the counter from the previous order.” 

Kuroo rested his elbow on the arm of the chair and squished his check into his fist. He looked silly and cute. Kenma looked away. 

“You pay a lot of attention to things,” Kuroo commented, his voice higher and slightly muffled by his position. 

Kenma tucked his hair behind his ear and slowly spun his coffee on the edge of the cup. “I guess,” he replied. He set the cup down, feeling the liquid slosh against the side from the sudden movement. “A little too much,” he mumbled with a sarcastic snort. 

Kuroo’s expression crumbled into sadness and sympathy. “I’m sorry.” He stumbled over the words, unsure of how to reply correctly. Kenma wasn’t sure there was a right way to respond.

“It’s not your fault; it’s just the way my brain is wired. I don’t mean to, I just notice a lot of stuff. I’m used to it,” he said with a one-shouldered shrug and sad smile. Kenma brought his drink to his mouth and sucked out the warm foam. The cup was still too hot to hold for long thus the coffee must still practically boiling. 

Kuroo stirred his saccharine beverage and its topping pensively. He smiled. “What do you notice about me?”

That you’re a fucking nerd and too pretty for your own good, Kenma thought immediately. Instead he licked his lips and studied Kuroo. He was trying to get the last of the whipped cream on his straw. It dripped off and fell on his chin. Kenma hid a laugh behind his hand.

“I notice that you just dropped whipped cream on yourself.”

Kuroo glared at him before wiping away the offending dairy product with a napkin. 

“I also notice,” Kenma continued before Kuroo could retort. “that you like sweet stuff. You always get ice cream and dessert after every meal, even breakfast, and pour, like, four or five sugar packets into your black coffee and tea.” 

“What about stuff I don’t know?” he asked, dropping his straw into its rightful home. 

Kenma pursed his lips. “You rarely change your lock screen. Also, I know your passcode.”

Kuroo sat up straighter and rushed to defend himself. “I like that picture of the sunset; it has a cat. I felt very artsy taking that photo.” He squinted at Kenma. “And what’s my passcode, then?”

Kenma grinned slowly, smug as a box of cats, feeling for once he had control of the conversation. 

“That’s a dangerous look on you.”

Kenma laughed once with his mouth closed, the air escaping through his nose. “It’s 0365.”

Plopping his straw back in his drink, Kuroo asked, “How’d you figure that out?”

Kenma shrugged. “I watched your hands.”

Kuroo looked at his hand, watching his long, slim fingers drum on the cup. 

“I’ve seen you open your phone a lot, Kuro. It’s not hard,” Kenma deadpanned. 

Kuroo took a sip of his drink, lips quirked around the straw from the moniker. “I guess so.” He furrowed his brows and glared at the arm of Kenma’s seat. “But I can’t remember yours. I swear you’ve had me open your phone, too.”

“That’s cuz I don’t have a passcode.” Kenma tried his drink again. It was still too hot but it wouldn’t burn his mouth if he swallowed fast enough. He winced when it hit his throat. 

“You’re a brave man, Pudding Head.”

Kenma barked out a laugh. _As fucking if._

They spent the next hours talking about this and that. They mutually agreed that the cafeteria cappuccino machine produced disgusting and probably toxic coffee and broke way too often but they couldn’t live without it. Kuroo relayed the reaction to his piece that he had woken Kenma up in the middle of the night for (An A and impressed looks from his classmates). He recounted how his Russian history professor tells the best and most improbable stories when they get off topic. 

Kenma nodded and made noises at the appropriate times as he listened. His days weren’t nearly as interesting so he kept quiet, more than content to hear Kuroo’s voice and his tales. He had a deep and soothing voice, almost sonorous at times thought his cackling laugh and biting sarcasm kept Kenma from getting lost in the sound and forgetting the words. There were few lulls in their conversation. Kenma was most afraid of having awkward silences but Kuroo’s chattiness solved that before it even happened. That soothed his nerves. It was nearly five o’clock by the time Kuroo offered to throw away their cups and Kenma decided to check his phone.

“We should probably head back,” he reported. 

Kuroo checked his watch ( _what a classy motherfucker_ ). “Probably a good idea.” He grabbed his coat from over the back of his seat and slid it over his arms. “We’re still having dinner, yeah?”

Kenma nodded and hummed in affirmation while pulling on his hoodie. 

Kuroo swept open the door, the little bell jingling joyfully. He stepped aside and gestured with his arm. A large grin spread across his lips and exposed his teeth. Kenma wrinkled his nose and stuck out his tongue but walked through. _It was because I wasn’t accepting his chivalry, I was just taking advantage of not having to open the door myself._

It was already twilight outside. The lights from the shops illuminated the sidewalk and the fairy lights from houses and apartments added color and shapes. The wind cast lights and shadows erratically. 

One store looked like it was just a home with large windows. Kenma peered through the lacey curtains and gasped. Horsehair strings and violin necks in various stages of varnishes dangled from the ceiling and bodies were suspended on the walls. Completed instruments decorated the window display. Their dark chocolate and milky coffee colored wood shone from the multi-toned Tiffany lights. The worktable was heavy and discolored with varnishes and stains. It glistened in the soft yellow light. The dimness made the gouges and rough patches stand out. The wall behind it held carving tools, files, small saws, and tuning plates. They were dark grey lines against the gently worn flower wallpaper. It looked almost false it was so precisely set up. It was gorgeous. Kenma hadn’t even noticed he had been gaping until Kuroo poked his shoulder.

“What happened?” he asked. He chewed his lip nervously.

Kenma turned to him and groaned, pointing at the store. He had lost in voice in the beauty and awe of the hand-made instruments. It looked so delicate and picturesque that he wanted to cry. 

“Aah,” Kuroo agreed with a pleased sigh. He patted Kenma on the shoulder. “I feel you.”

“It’s so beautiful,” Kenma squeaked. “How can I get a job here? Screw that, can I just live in there?”

Kuroo chuckled. Kenma wrenched his eyes away from a particularly enticing cello to glimpse at Kuroo. He had a smile Kenma could only describe as absolutely lovesick. He felt like he had seen something he shouldn’t have and looked away. 

“We can come back here tomorrow after classes, when it’s open,” Kuroo suggested. 

Kenma exhaled deeply, drinking in the details before spinning around. “Yes please.”

Walking next to him, Kuroo declared, “Then it’s set; we’ll be back tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait,” Kenma moaned as softly as he could. 

“Nerd,” Kuroo laughed under his breath. Kenma’s felt his face break into a grin and his heart hop a little. 

Kenma rammed him with his shoulder, only provoking laughter from the both of them.

~.~

Kageyama yawned as he slumped to the bathroom, toothbrush and toothpaste in hand. He was annoyed that his room was so far from the bathroom. On the nights where he’s up late studying because he neglected it during the day in favor of volleyball, he contemplates using the girls’ bathroom because it’s closer. _I mean, no one is really awake at four AM,_ he thought distantly.

His diaphragm sucked down, forcing another yawn out of him as he walked past the RA’s room. Just across the hall from it was Hinata and Yamaguchi’s room. A poster for his favorite Studio Ghibli Film hung dead center. Around it were glossy photos of his friends. Long strips from photo booths, sepia polaroids from a vintage camera he found at a flea market he went to with Kageyama, simple rectangles with low resolution from those disposable cameras you buy cheap from the pharmacy. Kageyama recognized his own friends, members of their volleyball team, and even some high school friends. Sweet-looking Natsu at various ages was mottled around. Tobio himself was featured in more than half of them. 

He let a small smile grace his lips as he remembered the days they took the photos. At Winter Ball in a photo booth with funny props, some blurry ones at a summer carnival, selfies after and before matches, even a stray solo image of Tobio as he stared out a train window. The trees were brown and green blurs and Kageyama was outlined in the morning summer, highlighting his hair to almost look blue and his skin to glow like gold. _He must have took that when he were going to the beach last summer._ Hinata loved to record memories with photographs. Kageyama begrudgingly agreed that he probably wouldn’t remember some of these moments as well without the images. He dragged his eyes away and kept lumbering down the hall.

As he pushed open the bathroom door, he yawned so wide tears formed in the corners of his eyes. Once his lungs release their captive air sucked dry of its precious oxygen molecules, a small orange figure blurred into existence. 

“Why are you dancing in your underwear to Kelly Clarkson in the dorm bathroom while brushing your teeth in the middle of the night?” Tobio deadpanned. 

“Was studyin’,” Hinata replies around his toothbrush. A bit of soapy spit leaks from the corner of his mouth. “Gon’ slee’ now.”

Kageyama glared. Hinata smiled. Glare wasn’t effective. _I must look like too much of a tired mess to scare him right now._ He shuffled over to the sink and prepared his toothbrush and popped it in his mouth. His shoulder was sore from practicing serves the other day so he tried to roll it out while he cleansed his pearly whites. Hinata jiggled as he hummed along to the music playing softly from his phone. 

Tobio spit out the minty foam and rinsed his mouth. Hinata was still dancing, toothbrush forgotten between his lips. He jumped from foot to foot and spun around in the tiny bathroom, avoiding the large pool formed by the weirdly unlevelled floor and the runoff from the showers. His boxers were covered in cartoon crows and stars. 

In that moment, Kageyama had two thoughts. First, _What a nerd._ Second, _He’s cute._ He frowned. He had been having these conflicting thoughts for a while but wasn’t sure what to do with them. This wasn’t something people would normally call “cute” and the feeling that came with that thought made his stomach hurt even he hadn’t eaten anything that would upset it. The pain moved up his chest and closed around his heart. _Maybe I’ve got acid reflux from eating out at that Indian restaurant too much,_ he thought with annoyance. _Or maybe the cafeteria’s new supply of beef is off._ He ignored the fact that he’s been having these weird emotions since before he started ordering takeout and the cafeteria receiving more food. 

Kageyama mumbled a good night and slipped out, slinking back to his room with furrowed eyebrows and chewing on his lip. He could still hear Hinata humming loudly and the music playing over the faucet running. _I hope these weird feelings go away or it’s going to be really hard to be around Shouyou._

~.~

Something shoved Kenma in the shoulder, barely softened by his four layers of blankets. He groaned loudly and rolled over, pulling the blankets further around his head. He nestled into the softness of his mattress pad and the warmth of the night. He licked some drool from his lips and avoiding the wet spot on his pillow. Uptown Funk blared in the background.

“Kenma-san, if you don’t get up soon, you’re going to miss breakfast,” Lev pleaded. He shook Kenma’s body again. 

Kenma rolled on his stomach and slammed his face into his pillow, moaning loudly. “Go the fuck away,” he complained, the sound muffled by the fabric.

“You told me to never let you miss breakfast during the week and it ends in like fifteen minutes,” Lev persisted. He rolled Kenma onto his back and pulled the blankets down from his face. Kenma glared with all his ferocity. Lev giggled. “Good morning Kenma-san.”

Kenma tried to groan again but was interrupted by a yawn. His teeth clacked shut. His mouth tasted like morning and dried spit and sleep. “Thanks Lev,” he managed to croak out. He may not look like it but he was very appreciative that Lev would do this whenever he forgot or snoozed his alarm too much. Breakfast was his lifeline. Coffee was the only way he could survive the day. 

He lugged himself through his morning routine. He brushed his teeth in a daze and threw on an outfit he had thought of the night before. Knowing he was a zombie in the morning, Kenma packs his backpack and clothes the night before. Lev fiddled with his hair the whole time, trying to straighten his hair. He had fallen asleep on his textbook and that side of his hair was frizzed and sticking up. Lev was a valiant warrior battling the monster that is his hair. Kenma was far less noble today and foregoes fixing his bleached hair; curly it is today. 

They walked to breakfast together, Lev smelling slightly of singed hair. He had yet to master the art of the hair iron. 

“No Kuroo today?” Lev asked. He placed a plate full of eggs, potatoes, and bacon on the bar next to Kenma who was nursing a mug of coffee. 

Kenma shook his head. “His English lab got moved to early this morning because the instructor is leaving for America for the weekend so they’re having class today so they have time to catch their plane.”

Lev nodded, mouth full of fruit. “How goes it with you two?” he asked after taking a sip of his apple juice. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Kenma glared before ducking his head and staring deeply into his coffee. It was swirling around in the mug, brown to beige to cream to white. It was hypnotizing in a way. Maybe Kenma just wasn’t fully awake yet. “We’re going to the string instrument store nearby after classes,” he mumbled. 

Lev had a way to wheedle information out of him. Well, it wasn’t that hard actually; Kenma just really needs to talk to people sometimes, to vent and get things off his chest. It just so happens the person that lives with him is around the most often to be weighted down with all of Kenma’s secrets and feelings. Shocker. Kuroo was a close second but Kenma couldn’t talk about Kuroo to Kuroo. Hinata usually got to hear a more refined version after Kenma sorted himself out after speaking with Lev. Shouyou always offered to listen and keep secrets but Lev was nosey. Almost excessively so. He was a hopeless romantic who lived vicariously through other people since his own love life was in shambles. He always prodded around for gossip but always kept quiet as well. Any confessions were safe with him. 

“How romantic!” Lev smiled around his toast. Damn that kid could eat. 

Kenma snorted. “As if; I was a total nerd when I saw the shop. He probably thinks I’m weird for getting so excited over instruments.” In the moment, it had felt light and funny to be so excited but in retrospect, Kenma regretted acting like that. It felt overly childish and weird and not a little creepy now that he thought about it. However, he often thought things over until he found faults and then stewed on those until he entered a spiral of despair. The worst part was that he knew that he did this but couldn’t stop it. 

Lev frowned. “He would never think that. He’s a big nerd himself over music. He probably fell head over heels to see you genuinely so excited about music.”

Kenma wasn’t sure if Lev knew about his anxiety. Lev always called out his bullshit thoughts and feelings and reassured him of the more logical conclusion. However, he was often tactless about that himself. Perhaps he was just so honest and genuine himself that he can’t let bullshit continue on without being checked. He might be a pain in the ass sometimes but Kenma really loved having Lev as a roommate and friend.

Kenma pursed his lips around the edge of his mug. That was the more logical conclusion and yet… “But how can I _know_ that?”

Lev looked at him with his wide eyes, his narrow dark green pupils drowning in the pure white of his sclera. “How can you be so sure that he thinks you’re weird?” he asked innocently. 

Kenma made a noise of annoyance low in his throat. Touché. Anxiety was a strange thing where you knew an invasive and predictive thought was illogical and incorrect and plain stupid and you could repeat the truth to yourself a thousand times but you just can’t make yourself _feel_ like it’s true. Remembering this makes Kenma feel like he was fighting a losing battle by pretending to agree. _Fake it till you make it,_ he repeated, yet to see any improvement in his life. 

Lev smiled smugly, knowing he won this battle. He continued to blab about his plans for the day. He easily cleared another plate of food while Kenma was halfway through his second coffee. He liked to hear Lev’s voice. It was a bit rough at times but always open and honest. His jokes sounded higher pitched and smoother in tone. It was a pleasant voice.

They split off in the courtyard to go to their separate classes, Lev waving dramatically while walking backwards until he runs into someone. Kenma hid his smile behind his sleeve. 

It was a short day of classes. In chemistry lab they edit their lab reports from an experiment they did last time. Kenma felt like his talent for logical writing and conclusions were the only things saving his chemistry grade. He has a biology lab next. He looks sadly at the arts building as he walks to the science building where wet labs were held. He not only loved the architecture of the arts building but also all the subjects studied under it and all it represented. He felt like that was his real home; not the bland science labs or sat at his computer in his dorm or even his childhood home. Music is what made his heart swell and let him see his future. Looking away was like a door closing, the little peek through the crack over and what lies beyond off limits to Kenma. 

When his lab was finally done with squinting into microscopes and identifying the slides contents, Kenma stepped out of the building, grateful for the cold and wind after being stuffed up in labs all day. 

“You ready to go, Pudding Head?” Kuroo asked. He was walking out of the side entrance of the humanities building right next door. 

Kenma nodded, trying to keep a neutral expression but the joy kept making his skin tingle and his face muscles contract into a smile. 

His eyes locked onto Kenma’s hair and his whole body stiffened. His teeth sunk into his lips, looking painful and oddly attractive. Kenma’s eyes widened in fear. _What’s wrong? Is something on me? Do I look strange? Oh god, there’s probably something on my face. I knew I should’ve put more effort into my appearance today, I must look like shit._ Kenma waited in horror for Kuroo to speak.

“I-” Kuroo stuttered. He looked away and coughed. “I like your hair. You should wear it like that more. It looks cute.”

It was Kenma’s turn to be speechless. A smile pressed against his muscles, though for an entirely different reason now. He felt warm amidst the cold wind and bare trees and dead grass and grey sky. He mumbled a thanks, feeling the red sneak past his neckline. _Isn’t it funny how just a couple of days ago we were sleeping in the same bed and we still get so flustered?_

“So we started watching this odd movie in English lab,” Kuroo started after dragging his eyes away from Kenma. “It had a really serious sounding title, something about the Holy Grail, but then all the scenarios are ridiculous. I can catch most of what the actors say but their slang is nothing we’ve learned so I ended up reading the subtitles a lot and missing the jokes.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. 

They recounted their days as they walked to the music shop. With every step Kenma felt the excitement in his stomach roll into a bigger ball. The anticipation of the violin store, leftover anxiety over having to speak to people in lab, Kuroo complimenting him, just being _near_ Kuroo. It unnerved him because the feeling was so similar to what he felt right before a panic attack. The mix of emotions was hard to break apart and identify. Kenma tried to subtly regulate his breathing in hopes of settling down the wave of emotions that was building up. 

All his efforts were for naught because when the shop came into view, the roiling emotions popped and spread to every inch of his body. Kenma shivered. _I shouldn’t be feeling this way, it’s not logical. I know this feeling and it’s not excitement or the cold._

Kuroo pushed open the door and the little bell above it jingled softly. “Hello?”

An old woman entered the room, wiping her hands on her smock. “Hello there! May I help you?” she asked. Her voice was scratchy and rough like her workbench. 

“We saw this place last night and wanted to check it out,” Kuroo explained. “We’re both big music fans.”

“Well, then you’re always welcome to come in.” She smiled and a million wrinkles grew around her warm bright eyes. “Do either of you play?”

“I’m learning the cello,” Kuroo said.

Kenma finally spoke up. “I’m teaching him.” 

The lady straightened up, curiosity piqued. “How long have you been playing?”

Kenma coughed into his sleeve. “Since I was quite young. Just as a hobby though,” he clarified.

Kuroo scoffed. “Hobby my butt. He’s an incredibly talented cellist. I’ve never seen anyone play as well as he does.” His tone was so honest and full of awe Kenma felt his heart fall out of his ass. 

Kenma wanted to sink into the floor and disappear forever. The blood rushing to his face made his jacket and hoodie combo unbearable warm but he didn’t care. He was embarrassed to receive such praise, even more so because _Kuroo_ said it. It wasn’t a bad embarrassment. 

The woman grinned softly and folded her hands together in front of her. “Are you in here looking for a new instrument then?” she asked.

_My heart is going to become a professional gymnast with all the flipping it’s been doing the past few days,_ Kenma thought. “I just wanted to have a look around but that would be amazing,” he stammered. “I mean, I have a college kid’s budget but I could save up.”

She wagged her finger at him knowingly. “I know just the instrument for you. I bought it off of a retired cellist after she stopped playing because her arthritis was too painful. Let me go get it.” She stepped into the back room. 

Kuroo and Kenma looked at each other as rustling and rummaging and thumps entered the room. The warm browns and faded flower wallpaper made the room feel cozy and safe. The fireplace crackled and emanating a benign and reassuring heat. She walked into with a smooth black case. It had a bit of dust on the neck and the edges.

“Here it is,” she announced. Setting it on her workshop, she unclipped the gold latches and eased up the lid. A red ribbon kept it from falling all the way back. “It’s made of aged spruce and maple. The pegs are ebony and the tailpiece and endpin are rosewood.” 

Kenma stared at the shining instrument. It was absolutely beautiful and his fingers itched to play it, to feel the smooth wood reverberate with each note and the heavy lightness of the sound. 

“You can play it, if you want,” the woman offered, gesturing at a stool. 

Kenma carefully removed the instrument from the lined case, adjusting the endpin before picking up the bow. He sat on the stool, feeling nauseous. He was used to playing in front of Kuroo but the woman was a stranger. _What if I mess up? She definitely knows about music._ Kenma chewed his lip as he prepared himself. He took deep, slow breaths, his air flowing around the neck of the cello and bouncing back into his face. 

He chose a short, recognizable song: Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1 – Prelude. He tried to relax his arms and fingers. The first few seconds sounded stilted and a bit rough. He tried to recreate the feeling of playing just to Kuroo. The calm and sweet feeling, the kind that makes you feel warm all the way to your fingertips. The warm pride and confidence that makes you smile without even knowing. Kenma soon melted into the song, his fingers knowing exactly which strings to cover and how to precisely slide the bow. This was his natural home, calloused fingers over the smooth wood and taut strings, eyes closed as he envisioned the sheet music, blocking out his surroundings and letting the feeling of playing and the music cover him like a warm blanket. He only opened his eyes after the final vibrato note when he heard two sets of hands clapping. 

“Bravo!” the old woman exclaimed. Kuroo gave him a proud smile so bright and innocent Kenma had to look away. 

Kenma returned the cello to its case, gently fitting it in. He stroked the body, feeling the smooth and cold varnish under his warm fingers. An instrument has never felt so _right_ in his hands. He turned to the woman, his hand still on the edge of the case. “How much is it?” he asked apprehensively. 

“She’s 905,000 yen,” she said. 

Kenma heart sunk. He would be never able to afford it. His bank account held only about 80,000 yen at any point in time. He ripped his hand off the case and shoved it deep in his pocket.

“But,” the woman continued. “for that skill and your dedication, I’ll lower it to 600,000 yen.” 

Kenma inhaled in disbelief. That was an incredible discount. However, it was still so high it would take him months to save enough to buy it. 

“Thank you so much,” he replied. “I still can’t afford it however. I’ll have to return another day.”

The woman smiled understandingly. She tapped her chin after a moment. “I’m afraid I can’t lower that price much more; you must understand the value of an instrument should never be disrespected.” Kenma nodded sagely. It would be just rude to sell an instrument of this caliber for any less. “However,” she continued. “you could work around here and all your pay could go towards to the cello.”

Kenma widened his eyes and took a shallow breathe of anticipation, nodding slowly. 

“It would be simple things like cleaning and organizing, helping with customers, and testing and tuning instruments,” she explained. 

Kenma nodded. “That would be amazing,” he said, voice quiet with shock.

She clapped her hands together. “Wonderful. You can start as soon as possible. Just come in everyday after your classes and I’ll find you something to do,” she stated. 

After heartfelt thank you’s and goodbyes, Kuroo and Kenma slipped out of the store. Kuroo looked sideways at Kenma and smiled to himself. Kenma leaned forward and raised his eyebrows.

“You just look so excited and happy,” Kuroo answered. He reached out and twirled one of the curls in Kenma’s hair between his fingers.

Kenma ducked his head, gently pulling the strand of hair out of Kuroo’s hand. He was so happy his heart might explode in a bout of glitter and rainbows and sheet music. 

“I really hope the best for you, ya know,” Kuroo said while looking nonchalantly at the sky though the angle let Kenma see the bit of pink on the tips of his ears. 

“Me too,” Kenma whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wink wonk
> 
> hmu and scream with me on tumblr @hipster-yams


	9. Why Is There a Dental Dam Tied To Your Bedpost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kuroken play in leaves and secrets, Kenma gets his world shaken some more, and hinata finds a sexual protection instrument

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got back to colleg in like 2 days rip me but like take the before I leave
> 
> i am not sorry for the puns in this chapter heh
> 
>  
> 
> [plaYlist](http://8tracks.com/hipster-yams/saltwater-room)

“Somehow, I don’t think this is how we were supposed to spend class time when it’s cancelled,” Kenma called from across the field.

“That, my friend, is where you are wrong,” Kuroo laughed. He raked his small pile of leafs into a larger pile. 

Kuroo and Kenma’s music theory and chemistry classes (held in the same building because college schedule planners make oh so much sense some times) had been cancelled that day because the building was undergoing fire alarm testing and neither professor could stand to teach with the blaring siren. They met up outside the building with secret smiles and full of giggles and bravery. Given that the trees had dropped all their leaves, they decided to make a huge pile and jump into it. High off of relief and giddiness, Kenma agreed. Now here they were, kicking and shuffling leafs together since they had no rakes.

Kenma stifled a giggle as he added his pile to the master leaf heap. It was situated in the middle of the field, where it would easiest to bring all the leaves. The pile was pretty large since they had gathered all the leaves in a 15-meter radius. _I could probably hide in there and no one could find me,_ Kenma thought. _Hide from my life problems and only emerge when they’re solved, like some sort of anxious butterfly hiding in a mid-life crisis cocoon._

“We just need a little more,” Kuroo said. 

Kenma nodded and walked to the edge of the grass. There was a discrete line where they had started gathering and where the nature was left undisturbed. Using his feet, he waddled around and swept the leaves together. Luckily, the wind was still so the crinkly foliage didn’t escape. He and Kuroo worked in a fit of giggles and bad jokes. 

“All the sticks in the grass should make like a tree,” Kuroo started and Kenma groaned. “and _leaf._ ”

Kenma threw his head back and his exaggerated groans melted into giggles. 

“Hey Kenma, What do you call the type of flower that grows on your face?”

Kenma wasn’t sure what it was yet but prepared for a bad joke. “What?”

“Tulips.” Kuroo exploded into loud cackles. Kenma covered his mouth with his hand and chuckled while trying, and failing, to look annoyed. 

“Hey Kuro, what did the little tree say to the big tree?”

“… What?”

“Leaf me alone.”

Kuroo blew a raspberry and dissolved into a fit of chortles. They were close to the master mound by now, their small leaf piles being slowly nudged along by their feet. 

“Hey Kenma,” Kuroo said in a low voice. Kenma felt the hairs on his arms stick up and he shivered almost imperceptibly. “Why did the pine tree get in trouble?”

Kenma inclined his head but said nothing. He hadn’t noticed how close they had gotten; he was too concentrated with herding his leaves. 

“He was being knotty,” Kuroo replied with a mischievous smirk. Kenma grew hyper-aware and distantly felt a giggle bubbling up. It came out as a breathless sigh, much more smooth and elegant and weirdly _sensual_ than Kenma thought he could be. He saw Kuroo’s eyes widen a bit and he inhaled his laughs. 

Kuroo looked away and cleared his throat. “You ready to make a Disney moment and jump in?” he asked, voice airy as if he didn’t have enough breath. 

Kenma hummed in agreement. He backed away and said, “You first.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes and agreed. He turned around, closed his eyes and fell back. The leaves exploded up, their light cellulose bodies floating for a second before slowly drifting down onto Kuroo’s chuckling body. 

“That was a lot softer than I was expecting,” Kuroo announced. 

Kenma turned around and more cautiously dropped his body into the pile, just barely missing Kuroo. He watched the leaves glide in the cold air, languidly settling around him. They felt scratchy on his exposed skin and itchy where they wormed their way into his coat. He turned his head, spluttering out leaf particles. Kuroo caught his eyes and wiggled his eyebrows. Kenma grinned, happy the leaves obscured half his face. No one could see him being a lovesick dork. 

“Let’s play two truths and a lie,” Kuroo suggested. “Enjoy to the atmosphere of the leaves, ya know?”

Kenma snorted but nodded, lodging the leaves deeper into his hair. 

Kuroo pursed his lips in thought. “Okay so, my favorite color is red, these earrings are fake, and I used to play the trumpet.” 

Kenma readjusted himself. The leaves were soft but itchy. “You told me you pierced your ears in high school the other night,” he rationalized. A smirk grew on his lips. “You definitely got the ego of trumpet player.” An indignant gasp. “So I’ll go with your favorite color being red.”

Kuroo stuck out his tongue and promptly accidentally licked a leaf. He gagged and dragged out an “ew”. “Correct; it’s yellow. Thought I beg to differ on the trumpet ego,” he replied after smacking his lips. 

Kenma huffed in victory. “I have the desire to dye my hair pink, I don’t like Spazzkid’s music, and I can play the violin.”

“You love Spazzkid,” Kuroo answered immediately. “You were playing him last time I was hanging out in your room.”

Kenma stuck out his tongue and Kuroo mimicked the gesture. He had a piercing on his tongue, the little steel ball gleaming in the weak sunlight. _Huh, never noticed that before._

“You have all his albums and the remixes; you’re like his number one fan,” Kuroo laughed.

“Am not.” _How dare he make fun of the truth that I am an utter nerd._

“Are too.”

“Am _not_.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth and Kenma waited for the next round of the game. His face dissolved into a mischievous smirk. _Oh fuck._ “Are too.”

“ _Am not_.”

Kuroo chuckled and Kenma tried to hide in the leaves for the rest of his life. _Goodbye world, I am gone._

They had a few more rounds of giggling and trivial things like favorite emo bands, bad haircuts they’ve gotten, and strange things they’ve eaten. Each statement sprung up a story and each dislike spurred a small, silly argument. It was all menial information but Kenma’s heart soared because Kuroo wanted to share these things with him, that he would say anything to keep talking because he _wanted_ to talk to Kenma. That validation was like taking a deep breath of calm and safety. He felt like he could say anything and Kuroo wouldn’t leave him. Kenma had never experienced this level of trust before and felt light-headed with it.

“So, I’m deathly afraid of spiders, I like gingerbread, and I’m an only child,” Kenma said. His mouth got ahead of him. Somewhere deep inside Kenma, he _wanted_ to explain himself, to expose all his secrets. Kuroo had talked about his family a lot but Kenma had kept quiet about his; he was too nervous to explain it and have Kuroo think differently of him. _Self-destructive and unproductive,_ Kenma thought, remembering the technically it was class time and he had homework. 

Kuroo replied immediately. “You literally called me the other day to get a spider out of your dorm room and you screamed so loud the RA came running because she thought someone was being murdered so that one is true. You don’t act like you have siblings so I’m gonna say that’s true. So you must not like gingerbread,” he surmised. 

“True,” Kenma said. “How do I act that makes me seem like I don’t have siblings?”

Kuroo bit his lip in thought and Kenma suppressed every thought that screamed, _that’s hot as fuck._ “You really value your privacy, like total privacy with absolutely no trace of other people around. You always look somewhat uncomfortable to share a room and bathroom and always try to escape someone alone, like the music rooms. You’re also kind of uncomfortable with matters like talking about who’s gonna clean the room and having underwear out in the open and people seeing you when you don’t want them to because you’re not ready for them to see you but you gotta expose yourself to go get ready.”

Kenma hummed in thought. He’s not wrong but Kenma never knew that those things were traits of a single child. It makes sense though. Siblings are used to having people see them brushing their teeth or half dressed and having their clothes strewn about and always having other people around. 

Kuroo sucked in his cheeks, popped his lips, and then stated in a rush, “I only found out I was bisexual a year ago, I like unagi, and the RAs don’t know my whole floor takes care of my cat, Hiyori.”

Kenma’s brain, a bit late to the game, thought immediately, _Ooo this is getting serious._ Kenma thought back, exasperated at himself, _You started this shit so we’re going to go with it because this is literally the point of the game._

“I doubt the RAs would let you all get away with that so that one,” Kenma said.

Kuroo nodded. A leaf was stuck in his fringe but he had flipped it back. 

“How’d you find out?” Kenma asked quietly. Though he didn’t specify, the tension in the air clouded around Kuroo’s confession. Kenma felt like he was treading on sensitive ground. 

Kuroo, however, did not feel that. He said loudly and proudly, “I had always liked girls but then I got a crush on my high school volleyball club’s libero. He was really nice about it when I told him but turned me down. We’re still friends, though. I had had suspicions that I was bi before but that solidified my thoughts.”

“I-,” Kenma stuttered. He didn’t want to break the continuity of the conversation by quickly dismissing Kuroo’s confession. He could practically feel the other’s curiosity about Kenma. “I guess I always knew I was gay. I never really tell people though. I don’t feel like everyone has to know. If they assume I’m hetero, then that’s their problem.” _That pretty much summarizes why I don’t tell anyone anything._

“Do your parents know?” Kuroo asked. Kenma shook his head. _They’d never accept me._ “Mine do; they didn’t like it but accepted it. They still hope I’ll marry a girl.”

“I’m sorry,” Kenma whispered, unsure of how to properly respond. “My parents keep hoping for grandkids but that’s never gonna happen. Besides being gay,” Kenma paused, reluctant to continue. His next words might make Kuroo think he’s a freak. Damaged goods. Mentally unstable. (The latter of which he is but that’s beside the point). Kuroo looked at him earnestly, curious but also caring. It wasn’t the look of curiosity gossipers get when they hear juicy information, all greed and desire and envy. Kuroo’s curiosity was kind and patient, like he knew Kenma just wanted to get these words, these thoughts, these facts, off his chest. And Kuroo was willing to help bear the weight of them. “I don’t feel sexual attraction. Everyone tries to explain it to me but I’ve never felt anything like that and I don’t want to.” He waited for Kuroo’s response, fearful of the words everyone has told him before: “You’ll get over it.” “You just have to meet _the one._ ” “You’re lying.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Kuroo said instead. “Being asexual is just as valid as any other sexual identity.”

_There’s a fucking name?!_ Kenma screamed at himself. He mentally cleared his throat and composed himself, unwilling to let Kuroo know that he didn’t know the name of his own goddamn sexuality. Instead he nodded and managed a little smile, relieved that he had said it out loud and that Kuroo accepted him. 

“Uh, so,” Kenma began, continuing the game. “I don’t like gummy worms, my parents aren’t married, and I’ve never solved a Rubik’s cube.”

Kuroo’s eyebrows shot up. Kenma inhaled in fear. “How can you not like gummy worms?” he exclaimed.

Kenma snorted. “They taste like cough syrup.”

Kuroo made an exasperated noise. His eyes showed his suppressed laughs. “Then are your parents married?”

Kenma shook his head. The leaves were flat now, since they had been laying and moving around in them so long. They were strangely insulating, keeping both their body heat and secrets trapped and hidden. “I don’t really know what happened but they never got married and aren’t together. I’m too afraid to ever broach the subject. It feels off limits. They work together but don’t really like each other. They stay together for me and to pay for my school,” he explained quietly, trying to keep a neutral tone.

“Is that why they’re so hard on you to do well?” Kuroo asked. 

Kenma licked his lips. “Probably.”

Kuroo nodded slowly. Suddenly, he looked very offended. “You’ve solved a Rubik’s cube?” he cried out. 

Kenma almost laughed, happy to be rid of some of the pressure he’s been carrying alone for years. He didn’t realize how heavy his secrets were until he shared them with Kuroo. They had been weighing him down for years and now he felt light. If they had continued on anymore, he might break into tears from the relief and regret of revealing so many of his personal thoughts and secrets. _One step at a time._ “Yes, a couple actually,” he confessed. 

Kuroo gasped, affronted by this knowledge. “Okay so, a leaf has snuck into my pants, I can now feel the cold of the ground, and we should get inside,” he announced.

Kenma furrowed his eyebrows. Were these facts or still the game? “Uh,” he said eloquently.

Kuroo smiled. “I’m not actually cold; I can feel your body heat,” he said blatantly, knowing he’d get a rise out of Kenma. 

Kenma sat up, brushing leaves out of his hair. “Okay then, Schemer-san, let’s go back to the dorms so I can get ready for work.”

Kuroo bolted up, sending leaves cascading everywhere. He shimmied and shook off the rest. Kenma stood on his tiptoes to brush the leaves out of Kuroo’s ridiculous hair. It was surprisingly soft and smooth and warm. Kenma pretended to be knocking leaves out just to keep running his hands in it. 

“You would have never noticed they were there and no one would have told you because your hair is always a mess anyways,” he explained before Kuroo could get a word in. 

Kuroo looked like a reprimanded puppy but the tips of his ears and his neck were pink. “It just doesn’t do what I want,” he indirectly thanked Kenma.

~.~

“Could you put this on the drying rack over there?” Minori said. She carefully handed Kenma a violin body.

Kenma took the violin and gently placed it on a rack in the backroom. His new job was pretty simple and quiet. Minori would ask him to move things or hand her tools or materials and then go to work. Occasionally, a customer would come in for a new instrument or to have a repair done. Kenma usually stood by quietly and grabbed any paper work needed while Minori spoke. It was a good arrangement. Kenma had tried calling the shopkeeper and his new boss by the polite title, Hiro-san, but she insisted on using her first name. It reminded Kenma of himself.

However, Kenma’s favorite part was when Minori asked him to tune or play one of the instruments, whether it be one she made or one being repaired. Kenma wasn’t born with perfect pitch (unlike some lucky bastards cough _Kuroo_ ) but had taught himself over the years to develop a skill almost as good. Minori trusted his talent and rather than tune and test the instruments herself, she had Kenma do it. After all, he _was_ there for a reason. At first, he was nervous about playing in front of Minori and being responsible for the quality of the instrument. His hands shook and he doubted himself, tuning and re-tuning until Minori asked him to do something else and he had to hand over the instrument and its evaluation. After a few instruments, Kenma grew more relaxed. Minori never hovered over him or criticized him unnecessarily. Her patient and calm aura soothed him. 

It took a bit of readjusting to remember the feel of the violin and viola but Kenma managed. They were the first instruments he played so he was happy his body still knew how to hold and play them. However, neither of them matched the absolute pleasure of playing the cello. Kenma was addicted to the feeling of the music echoing in the hollow body and the vibrations the notes sent through his fingers and arms. He loved playing music and sounds he could get out of the cello. 

Before long, Minori was closing up the shop and Kenma was sweeping the floor. Together, they cleaned up and put everything back in its place. _Another day closer to getting that cello,_ Kenma thought, glancing at the case. A knock on the door caused them to look at each other in confusion. Minori walked to the door and opened it to tell the wayward customer they were closed. 

“Oh it’s you! Are you here for Kenma?” Minori asked. Kenma furrowed his eyebrows. 

Kuroo leaned around Minori and waved at Kenma, a lazy smirk gracing his face. “I’m here to walk you back,” he announced. 

“You’re free to go, Kenma. I have some paperwork to wrap up.” Minori nodded towards Kuroo. “Just come back tomorrow, same time.”

Kenma straightened up, a little wary. _Was this how jobs worked?,_ “Uh okay, thank you,” he said. He slid on his coat and grabbed his backpack. “See you tomorrow, Minori-san.”

Kuroo waved bye and let Kenma pass the doorway. He shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking towards the university.

Kenma raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t ask you to come get me,” he said.

Kuroo shrugged. “I wanted to,” he said, not looking at Kenma. 

Kenma squinted at him, trying to discern his true intentions. _Is he trying to get something out of this or…_ Kea refused to let his thoughts wander into the land of Reciprocated Feelings. Kuroo obviously thought of them as friends and that was that. He just had a naturally friendly and flirty personality. _You are not special, Kenma._

Kuroo held a hand over his heart and gasped dramatically. “I’m always this kind.”

Kenma huffed and smiled, rolling his eyes at Kuroo’s antics. _I may not be special to him but I might as well enjoy his company while it lasts._ Kuroo’s laughs produced small white clouds in the air from the cold.

“Hey, Kenma,” Kuroo said.

Kenma braced himself for a pun.

“Hold onto my arm?” Kuroo stuck out his crooked arm, hope written all over his face. His eyes twinkled with mischief. 

“No.”

Kuroo swooned and held his forehead. “Why must you be so cruel? Oh! My kokoro is brokoro.”

_Fucking knew it._ “Get your shitty shojo puns away from me, Kuro,” Kenma laughed. 

Kuroo smirked and laughed. “I was hoping the old lady would lower your salt level but I guess I was wrong.”

Kenma stuck out his tongue. “You know you wouldn’t have me any other way, Kuro,” he stated. 

Kuroo’s expression softened. “Yeah; I like you the way you are.” 

Kenma realized his error of being too truthful and flushed. His brain scrambled for something to get rid of the mood he had created.

“Just the way you are; the king of salt,” Kuroo finished with a snort. 

Kenma tried to plaster an offended expression over his relief. 

“Speaking of the way you are,” Kuroo continued. “I heard that the string ensemble is hosting a small concert.”

Kenma nodded. He had seen the audition adverts around campus. 

“I was wondering if you wanted to audition for it,” he said in a rush. He bit his lip and looked at Kenma.

Kenma twirled and tugged on a strand of his hair. “Well, it’s been a long time since I performed in front of an audience…”

“It’s a small group, only like five people. You would play with them before another ensemble during the concert, as sort of an opener,” Kuroo explained.

Kenma took a deep breath. He really enjoyed the prospect of playing others. He had heard so much about the joys of playing in perfect harmony with a group of people who loved their instrument just as much as Kenma loved the cello. The fear of playing in front of an audience washed over all his hopes and expectations. He swallowed thickly. 

“It’s totally all right if you don’t want to,” Kuroo said. “I just-“

“I’ll think about it.”

Kuroo smiled. “I’ll help you prepare, if you choose to do it.”

Kenma hummed. The audition sounded more terrifying than the actual concert. Everyone would openly be judging him. However, the curiosity of playing with people was too strong. Kenma wanted to push his skills and see how well he could mesh with an ensemble. _It’ll be kind of like exposure therapy,_ he thought. _Maybe it’ll help me, both as a musician and my mental health._ He had played in front of Kuroo and Minori already and he felt more free. His bad and intrusive thoughts didn’t rule him during those moments. So if he played in front of an audience, maybe his anxiety would go away? 

“So will you hold my arm now?”

Kenma laughed and shook his head. He and Kuroo walked all the way back to their dorm with arms linked.

~.~

A hurried knock on the door forced Kenma to look up from his computer, squinting in the dark. Lev had left to study with Yaku so he was alone. Kenma was enjoying the peace and quiet while wrapped in all his blankets. His trashy anime kept playing through his headphones though he was no longer paying attention.

“It’s open,” he called, voice scratchy from lack of use. 

Hinata whipped open the door and barged in. The heavy door slowly swung shut behind him. 

“Do you know what a dental dam is?” he asked bluntly. He dropped himself onto Kenma’s bed, the comforter ballooning from the sudden shift. 

“Uh, no?” Kenma was afraid to ask. This sounded ominous. 

“It’s a piece of latex or something you stretch over someone’s naughty bits while you lick,” he explained casually. He pulled a small, thin packet from his pocket, twisting it around his finger. “It’s supposed to be flavored or scented or something. I think this one’s banana.”

Kenma nodded cautiously. _Where was this going?_ “Where did you get that?” Kenma asked hesitantly. 

Hinata slowly turned to face Kenma. His eyebrows were knotted together and his mouth slightly agape. “Yamaguchi had them,” he explained, mildly horrified. 

“Ah.” Kenma had a similar expression. What people do behind closed doors is their own business and good for them for doing what they want but talking about it on this level felt weirdly intrusive. 

“He was complaining that it tasted bad.” Shouyou bit his cheek pensively. “Do you wanna taste it?”

_What the fuck is my life._ “Okay.” _I have lost control of my life and this is fine._

Shouyou ripped open the packet and pulled out a yellow square. He unfolded it and stretched it with both hands almost comically. He shoved it against his nose and sniffed. “Smells gross. Like sweet and ew.” He stuck out his tongue in digust. Hinata stretched it wide again, so that the middle was an opaque white instead of the bright yellow of the edges. He tentatively licked it. He made a face. “Oh god, it tastes nasty.”

“Lemme see,” Kenma said, pulling his arms free of all the blankets. Hinata handed him the flimsy piece of latex. Kenma stretched it from this way and that way. 

“Isn’t it so stretchy?” Hinata exclaimed.

Kenma hummed and daintily sniffed it. Smelled like saccharine chemicals and latex. He gave it a quick lick. _Tasted like how latex gloves we use in lab smelled._

The back of his mind told him he had probably just licked the same place Hinata had but they had already swapped spit so what did it matter? Sometimes weird accidents, like making out with your friend, let’s you grow closer. It’s like if you can still be friends after that, then your bond is strong enough to not be ravaged by accidents or overstepping false boundaries. Kenma noticed that he was actually relaxed around Shouyou. Even in safe places, Kenma always felt slightly on edge, like when you’re going up the stairs and you expect another step but there isn’t one. The only other people he felt this safe and relaxed with were Kuroo and occasionally Lev. 

“It’s so awkward too,” Hinata said, taking back the dental dam. “Like you have to hold it over the other person.”

“Well, I guess your hands have to go somewhere…” It felt strangely dreamlike to talk about matters of sex. Kenma never wanted it so it didn’t feel real. People said they were having sex and Kenma knew it, sometimes heard it (much to his annoyance) but it didn’t seem real. Sex and the desire to have it with a person seemed false but Kenma just nodded like you would to a small child who insisted that their plastic toy phone actually worked and grandma was on the line. It was the real life version of the “Sounds fake but okay” meme. Maybe that was why Kenma could talk about sex toys and condoms and porn and the like without flinching. It just wasn’t real to him because he couldn’t feel all these emotions and desires other people raved about. 

Hinata suddenly looked at him with a mischievous grin. “Do you wanna see how far this thing will stretch?”

Kenma shrugged. “Sure, why not.”

Shouyou slid off of Kenma’s bed. “Hold this end and I’ll walk away and we’ll see how far it goes,” he instructed.

Kenma held tightly to the end of the dental dam as Hinata walked away backwards. The flimsy material slid through his hands and he struggled to keep hold. It was a good three, maybe four, feet long before Kenma lost his grip and the dental dam fell to the floor. Hinata broke into laughter and Kenma felt a chuckle rising up. Before long the two were doubled over in giggles. What a ridiculous situation but here they were, right in the middle of it, real as daylight. _College is so fucking weird._

“You have to get it off the floor,” Kenma said after they calmed down.

“What am I gonna do with it?” Hinata asked, rolling over to stare at the offending piece of yellow latex.

Kenma wiggled his eyebrows. “Maybe Kageyama-“

Shouyou covered his ears. “Lalalalala I can’t hear you!”

“If your life was a shojo manga, you and Kageyama would have intense internal monologues about liking each other,” Kenma laughed. 

“How do you know I don’t?” Hinata challenged. 

“Because you’re more the type to rant out loud.”

“Shit, you’re right,” Hinata admitted.

Kenma smirked. “So how does it go with you two?”

“I don’t know,” Shouyou groaned. “His girlfriend broke up with him because me and him hang out too much and she must’ve seen how I look at him, like she must’ve known I like him to do something like that. Does Kageyama see that too?”

Kenma shook his head. “Probably not. You and him are kind of oblivious sometimes.”

“Hey!” Hinata exclaimed and shoved his friend. 

“But the girl wouldn’t have broken up solely if she saw that you like him,” Kenma continued. 

Shouyou licked his lips. He knew what Kenma meant but couldn’t believe it. 

“She must have seen that Kageyama felt the same way about you and figured she and him would be a hopeless case,” Kenma said.

Hinata moaned and dragged his hands down his face. “What if we’re just that type of really close friends?”

“Maybe you should ask him; it would clear up all confusion.”

“Fuck that.” Hinata rolled off the bed. “If we’re good friends, then that’s that and that’s fine.”

“You know it’s not,” Kenma warned.

“If you can keep suppressing how you feel about Kuroo then I can do the same with Kageyama,” Hinata announced. 

Kenma shrugged. _Well, you got me there._

Shouyou picked up the abused dental dam. He scoped out the room, fiddling with it.

“What are you-“

Hinata walked over to Kenma’s bed and tied the dental dam to the bedpost. He leaned back and admired his handiwork.

“Aesthetic.”

~.~

“Pew pew pew.”

“A bow is not a laser gun, Kuro.”

“You’re right; it’s more of a light saber.”

Kenma snorted and rolled his eyes. Kuroo swung his bow around as if battling an invisible adversary. His lesson with Kuroo had ended a good half hour ago but the two continued to chat and play music. It wasn’t like someone was going to kick them out.

Kenma shuffled his sheet music again. He didn’t need it. He had memorized the song long ago. It was more for comfort. He hadn’t said out loud that he was auditioning for the string ensemble but he and Kuroo knew it was going to happen. Kenma antagonized for days over which song to audition with. Kuroo forced him to calm down and watch a movie with him one night. Kenma remembered it very clearly.

_”Kenma, it doesn’t matter what song you choose; you’re going to sound amazing anyways,” Kuroo sighed._

_“But what if I choose something they hear all the time? What if someone else chooses the same song?” Kenma shuffled his sheet music, looking over his choices once more._

_“Then you’ll twin,” Kuroo sighed, exasperated._

_Kenma made a noise of annoyance and fear low in his throat._

_Kuroo sighed up, sitting up from his place on Kenma’s bed. “You need a break.”_

_“No, I need to choose a song and I need to choose it now,” Kenma countered._

_“Nope, we’re watching a movie,” Kuroo announced. He got up and picked up Kenma by the armpits, the sheet music tumbling off his lap._

_“I am not a cat, Kuro,” Kenma spat._

_“Could’ve fooled me.” He dumped Kenma on his bed and threw himself over his lap to prevent him from getting up._

_Kenma wriggled around. “I need to choose, Kuro,” he whined, on the verge of tears. He had been low-key having a panic attack for about an hour now._

_Kuroo reached up and grabbed his face. He looked straight into Kenma’s eyes. “Whatever you choose, you’re going to play amazingly because I know you and you are amazing. The audition isn’t for a while and I know for a fact you have all those songs memorized. You deserve a break.”_

_Kenma had nearly cried from the intensity of Kuroo’s words. He gave in and slouched. Kuroo smiled softly and stroked Kenma’s face with his thumbs. After making sure Kenma wouldn’t cry, he drew his hands away and grabbed his laptop, opening Netflix._

_“I’ll Netflix with you but I won’t ‘chill’,” Kenma deadpanned._

_Kuroo pressed a finger to Kenma’s frowning lips. “Shh, don’t speak.”_

_“You shitlord,” Kenma whispered under his breath. Kuroo chuckled_

_“Here we go. You’ll like this,” Kuroo said, turning the screen their way. The opening adverts were playing._

_“What is it?”_

_“’If I Stay’. It’s about a girl who plays the cello and that’s all I know but we’re gonna find out the rest right now,” Kuroo replied._

_Turned out, the movie was part love story, part family drama, part cello, and part deep philosophical questions. Needless to say, it turned into a sobfest. He and Kuroo loved the movie, despite their tears. The crying helped him calm down though. Kenma felt relieved after the film. His tears were part in cause of the movie, part in cause of his panic attack. He wasn’t annoyed at Kuroo anymore. He was glad that Kuroo noticed his distress and panic and tried to help in his own way. Having Kuroo lying in his lap wasn’t so bad either._

Kenma shook his head at the memory. _What nerds we are._ However, the movie helped him choose a piece. In the movie, Mia chose [Saint-Saëns’ Cello Concerto No. 1 in A minor, OP. 33](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F2YKkBiQpzI) for her Juliard audition. It was too late for Kenma to choose a different college and string ensemble was a lot less high-stakes but the song was beautiful and so Kenma chose it for his own audition. 

Picking up his bow, Kenma started playing the piece. He chose a [section](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RRQ6T5_i8Lw) of the first movement, since the audition had time restrictions. He slid the bow back and forth so fast he thought the bow hairs might break. He rocked in his seat to the tempo changes and different pitches. He suddenly heard the accompanying piano and his fingers stumbled over the strings, producing an annoying whine. 

Kuroo smiled sheepishly from the piano. “I thought it would be interesting to play together.”

“I- It would be,” Kenma stuttered. He had wanted to play with Kuroo since the day he found out Kuroo composed. He never thought it would actually happen; it seemed to be the stuff of fantasies. 

“Then let’s go again,” Kuroo declared, turning back to the white and black keys.

Kenma felt awkward trying to keep with Kuroo’s timing but after a few seconds, managed to match up pretty well. It felt weird to play together but also exhilarating. Playing with someone was a whole different level of intimacy. You could hear every note; any error wouldn’t be missed but neither would every perfect note. After they finished, Kuroo spun around with a giant, infectious grin. 

_I could get used to this kind of thing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol kenhina scene based on a real thing
> 
> ya see that ace kenma tag here heeeeeeee yes
> 
> also i lied, if i stay isn't on netflix but i really wanted to make that joke lol
> 
> it is a violent battle to get the tone i want for this fic 
> 
> hmu on tumblr hipster-yams


	10. Why Are Short People So Angry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kagehina get domestic, kenma plays some cello and kuroo comes to the rescue maybe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a slow descent into memes
> 
> also this has so many emotions ooops????????¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ prepare yourselves my friends
> 
> also this is really short but so much happens that i saved the rest for the next chapter

“No, Hinata, we do not need maple syrup for tempura.”

Hinata pouted, putting the glass jar back on the shelf. “If we deep fried something sweet it’d be great to dip in.”

Kageyama walked away, holding a half full shopping basket. “When you find the extra money for a feast, tell me.”

He and Tobio were fully sick of the cafeteria food at their college. You can only eat potatoes and chicken for oh so many meals before you got pure dead tired of it. To make matters worse, the food was bland as water. _Like, they could at least use some paprika or salt for gods’ sake. Someone get the cafeteria staff a spice rack._ Fed up with tepid stir-fry and cold sandwiches, they were food shopping to make some fried vegetables and chicken in the dorm kitchen. 

Hinata watched as Kageyama selected a brand of oil, glaring at two bottles. One tasted better but the other was almost a hundred yen more expensive. The eternal struggle of shopping on a budget. They had had a similar debate over the brand and amount of milk and eggs to create the wash in. It was the most domestic thing Hinata had ever done. 

Shouyou suddenly grabbed Kageyama’s shoulder and pulled him down to his level. Kageyama leaned over without complaint. “Helen, did you pick up little Timmy from baseball?” he asked, struggling to create a worried expression.

Kageyama squinted at him. “What the fuck.”

“This is domestic as fuck,” Hinata laughed. “Might as well complete the image.”

Kageyama glared sideways at him and walked to the produce section. Hinata deflated, sad his antics were unappreciated. While Kageyama was perusing the bell peppers, he muttered, “I don’t know. Did you bring little Suzy to ballet?”

Hinata nearly exploded in laughter. Covering his mouth, he blurted, “Well I would have if the book club weren’t coming over. I had to prepare hors d’oeurves so we can discuss Fifty Shades of Grey!”

Kageyama tried to cover his surprised laughter with a cough as he tied the plastic bag of a couple of peppers. “So you just left her home?”

Shouyou put his hands on his hips and sighed dramatically. “I figured you would get her after you fixed the mini van!”

“I told you Fred was taking it camping, Beth.” Tobio pressed his lips together tightly to keep his giggles from escaping. 

“Does this mean Timmy is stranded at baseball?” Hinata gasped.

Tobio shrugged. “Oops.”

Hinata’s façade crumbled. “We’re terrible parents,” he said between snorts of laughter. 

Kageyama only nodded, laughing too hard to make a comment. The food in his basket slid and bounced around from the force. After composing himself, he rearranged the basket so the eggs wouldn’t be sliding around as he walked when Shouyou pointed at the shelves.

“I’ll get the panko,” he announced. Upon locating the correct section, he realized the boxes were on the top shelf. _This is fine._

Hinata glared at the boxes and cursed their audacity to be so high up. He stepped on the bottom shelf and tried to reach up. His fingers barely brushed the edge of the top shelf. He stretched his arm until he thought his shoulder would pop out of its socket but still couldn’t even touch the box. 

“Fine,” he said under his breath. He stepped away from the shelf and took a running start. He stepped together just a few inches from the edge and jumped. It was excellent form. If he were aiming to spike all the boxes into the next dimension, that is. The boxes tumbled around him as he landed delicately. He winced as one hit his arm.

“Nice kill.”

He whipped around to find Tobio standing with a dorky grin as he giggled. Hinata felt his face flush. _He’s so cute when he lets himself smile._ He shook his head as he sensed the blush deepen. 

“Isn’t all our practice enough for you, dumbass?” Kageyama asked. “Do you need to go around spiking all the groceries, too?”

“Maybe I’ll spike you next!” Hinata retorted, standing on his tiptoes to get close to Kageyama’s face. _Oh shit, his eyes are really pretty, wow that blue is so deep, god._

Tobio’s eyes flickered down before meeting Hinata’s. _Is he looking at my lips, oh god. Abort mission, abort mission, this is too gay._ Tobio squinted and stepped away to put back the boxes with a murmured “dumbass.” The tips of his ears were red.

They continued their domestic adventures after fixing all the boxes, taking one for themselves. They wandered the small food market, looking greedily at all the chips and cookies. Perhaps another day. They selected a few more vegetables and a small tray of chicken. Soy sauce, salt, and pepper could be stolen from the cafeteria. Leaving out those left room in the budget for a singular candy bar. 

“I get to pick,” Hinata announced when they calculated how much spare money they had.

Tobio frowned and glared at him. “Why? I had to carry the basket the whole time; I deserve a treat.”

“I got avalanched by panko boxes,” Shouyou argued. With a sly grin, he added, “Besides, you left Timmy and Suzy to fend for themselves.”

Kageyama rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

Hinata huffed in victory and skipped over to peruse the candy shelf. He immediately spotted his favorite treat. He looked over to see Kageyama putting their groceries on the counter to buy them. He grabbed a sweet and dropped it on the conveyor belt.

Kageyama eyed the short boy suspiciously. “I thought you didn’t like Lion bars?” 

Hinata shrugged and looked away. “They didn’t have the kind I like so I grabbed your favorite.”

Kageyama looked confused and vaguely uncomfortable but a small grin crept onto his lips. He raised his arms like he was going to either hug or punch Hinata. He settled on ruffling Shouyou’s hair, gently dropping his face down his face to brush his cheek before pulling away. Hinata stood in surprise as his blood flooded his face and neck. 

“Let’s go,” Tobio said, carrying half the bags.

Hinata snapped out of his stupor and grabbed the rest of the groceries. The walk back to the dorms was strangely quiet (i.e. actual conversation and only a bit of arguing) but the feeling was comfortable, as if neither of them needed to say anything.

~.~

To: Kozume K.  
From: Sunshine Child  
20:23

kags and me are making tempura come join the party

Kenma raised an eyebrow at the message. By contrast, his stomach grumbled. The last time he had eaten that day was his small lunch of a banana he stole from breakfast. He had had two lessons, back to back today, a viola and violin respectively. After the students had left with their homework, he pulled out his own instrument to practice. The strings shop was closed early on weekends so Minori let Kenma free. Gotta make that cash cash money though. 

To: Sunshine Child  
From: Kozume K.  
20:24

im always a slut for hot food

Kenma speed walked to Hinata’s dorm, both to get out of the cold and to get to free, hot food faster. He felt conspicuous with his giant cello case but, at this point, everyone knew he played. _What happened to my quiet life of secretly practicing and eating microwave noodles?_ he contemplated during an especially strong gust. 

To: Kozume K.  
From: Sunshine Child  
20:26

i cant wait to see you!!!

He smiled, his heart floating with the validation of being wanted. Kenma had gone through most of his life being judged and ordered around like he didn’t own his life. To have someone appreciate and _want_ his company and accept him for he is, flaws and all, felt so special. He never wanted it end. It was like a blind man seeing for the first time; it would be nearly impossible to go back after feeling this. _You know, this change really isn’t that bad._

After struggling up the stairs to the fourth floor (because Hinata’s dorm didn’t have an elevator for some godforsaken reason) and wandering the identical (rather horror movie-like) halls, Kenma finally came upon his friends in the lounge. Kageyama manned the stove, stirring the vegetables in the oil. Shouyou dipped the legumes in egg wash and breaded them. His hands were covered in more panko than the actual food. 

“Kenma!” he exclaimed, waving a piece of bell pepper. “Just in time to eat with us!”

Kenma smiled and set his cello down by the rickety table, plopping into the seat. The arm was broken and hung limply. A plate of slightly burnt tempura sat in the center of the table. He selected a piece and popped it in his mouth. It was still warm, almost too hot and needed a bit more salt. It was absolutely delicious. 

“It tastes amazing,” Kenma said after swallowing. 

“That’s all because of me!” Hinata pointed his thumb at his chest.

Kageyama hip bumped him. “You nearly burnt the first batch; I had to take over frying. It’s my cooking that’s making them so good.”

Kenma smirked as the two bickered like a married couple. They didn’t even notice as he polished off the plate. A dark blur make him glance in the hallway. Surprise surprise, Mr. Bedhead himself came swaggering down the hall. 

“Just have to follow the smell of burning oil and fried food to find you guys,” Kuroo announced, walking in. 

“Nice of you to join us, Kuro,” Kenma snorted as he stole the last piece of tempura from between Kenma’s fingers. 

Shouyou waggled his eyebrows at Kenma at use of the nickname. “I invited him since I know we can’t eat this all,” he said, dropping a piece of breaded chicken into the oil. Kageyama batted his hands away as the oil popped and crackled. 

“Mmm-hmm,” Kuroo agreed around the food in his mouth. 

Kenma shot a glare at Shouyou. _I see what you’re trying to do._ Hinata shrugged, a giant grin on his face. His eyes twinkled with amusement. 

“Hey, I wanna taste my own work,” Kageyama complained, waving his chopsticks. He immediately dunked them in the oil to flip the browned tempura so they could finish cooking. 

Hinata picked up a small piece and blew on it to cool it. He held it out to Kageyama.

“Ew, I’m not eating that. It has your germs on it,” Tobio said. 

“Fucking rude,” Hinata grumbled. Kageyama leaned over and bit the tempura and Kenma was pretty sure he saw Shouyou’s fingers disappear into his mouth as well. He smirked at Hinata’s offended squawk. 

Kenma winked at him. Shouyou whipped around to busy himself with the rest of the chicken as his ears grew red. 

They chatted about their days and classes while they munched on tempura. Kuroo steered the conversation towards music and Kenma felt his cello grow more conspicuous with every word. 

“Kenma, I’ve never heard you play,” Hinata remarked. He had washed his hands and was sitting at the table, stuffing his face with fried chicken. Kageyama hummed agreement from his place at the stove. 

“Uhm, uh, I don’t,” Kenma stuttered. He felt his face grow warm. A foot nudged his own under the table. 

“Just play a quick song?” Kuroo suggested. His foot continued to rub Kenma’s ankle and worked his way up his calf. Kenma’s mind fizzled out, unable to give everything happening around him the appropriate amount of attention. 

Kenma chewed on his lip and tapped against Kuroo’s shoe. He focused on that feeling and collected his thoughts. He really didn’t want to mess up or underwhelm his friends with a lack of skill. At the same time, if he couldn’t play for his closest friends, how would he play at an audition with judges he’s never seen before? 

“Okay then,” he sighed after a moment. _The practice is good for me,_ he repeated in his head, trying make the words feel real. 

He pulled his chair away from the table and pulled out his cello and bow. He adjusted himself in the chair as he ran through songs in his head. He eventually chose the first movement of the [Elgar Cello Concerto](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RM9DPfp7-Ck). _Go big or go home, right?_ He felt the blood rush to his face as he squeaked out the first notes, fear paralyzing his arm. He glanced up from his fingers on the scroll and met Kuroo’s eyes. He gave a sweet and confident smile that warmed Kenma from the inside out. His hands grew steadier as he progressed. He felt his muscles and brain calm down though they maintained a certain tension of fear of failure. However, it was a much more manageable level of anxiety, an amount he had to deal with almost everyday. Kenma may be humble and dislike his playing, like any other artist, but deep down he _knew_ he was good. He knew on some level that he was an incredible cellist, even if parts of his brain argued and questioned that. 

Hinata burst into applause when Kenma finished. “That was amazing!” His bright eyes crinkled with joy and pride. His orange curls flounced as he bounced on his toes. Even Kageyama gave a few claps and looked more impressed than Kenma had ever seen. Kenma gave Kuroo’s face one peek before looking away. It was too much for him to see all that pure happiness directed at him. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled. He let his hair cover his face as he put away his cello. 

“You’re definitely gonna be accepted at your audition,” Hinata stated. 

“Same. I don’t see why they would ever turn away that kinda talent,” Kageyama agreed, pulling the last pieces of chicken out of the oil. 

Kenma waved away their praise, willing for his face to calm down. His smile was so wide and his cheeks so red. He hoped his hair hid it. His heart rate was way too fast, almost like Kenma had been on a rollercoaster instead of having played classical music. Shouyou continued to chatter on jumping from topic to topic. Kenma nodded and offered commentary but mostly let Kageyama and Kuroo populate the conversation. Kenma was pleased to just listen. 

Kenma smiled behind his hand as Hinata popped the last piece of chicken in his mouth, smacking his lips. Kageyama, in his own disjointed, awkward way, was trying to get closer to Hinata. He had pulled his chair close to him and touched Hinata a lot, whether it be a punch or mussing his hair.

“Delicious,” Shouyou announced with delight. 

“You’re welcome,” Tobio deadpanned.

Kuroo snickered and gave Kenma a mischievous glance. Kenma’s eyes widened. Kuroo was going to fuck around with them, he just _knew_. 

“Ya know, Kageyama,” Kuroo started. “Shouldn’t the chef be wearing a ‘Kiss the chef’ apron? It would only be appropriate.” 

Kageyama blanched and furrowed his eyebrows while Hinata turned pink. 

“Is that a thing that’s required?” Tobio asked roughly. 

Kuroo chuckled and suggestively waggled his eyebrows at Kageyama. He looked mildly terrified and confused. Kenma popped a piece of chicken in his mouth as he watched. 

“He doesn’t need it,” Hinata stated, getting up. He leaned down and pecked Kageyama on the cheek. “But this tempura does need some salt.” He walked over to the counter to retrieve the saltshaker, blushing furiously while Kageyama sat in shock. 

Kuroo looked very smug with himself. “Cute.”

Kenma observed everyone’s reactions curiously but made no moves to comment or intervene. Kuroo kept talking about the latest gossip and Hinata tried to make pretend everything was normal while he haphazardly tried to clean up. Kageyama scowled a lot. 

“Uhm, Kageyama, can I put this stuff in your mini-fridge?” Hinata asked. He was holding the leftover milk and eggs and hopping between each foot nervously. 

“Wha- yeah sure, the door’s unlocked,” Kageyama answered. He didn’t look at Hinata.

“Kenma, can you get the butter?” Hinata looked desperately at him.

Kenma nodded and followed Hinata as he sped away. Once in the room, Hinata throw the leftovers in the fridge and collapsed on Kageyama’s bed.

“I fucked up, Kenma, oh my god,” he moaned into the comforter.

“No you didn’t,” Kenma replied. He gently patted Hinata’s back.

“Yes I did. Things are gonna be so weird and awkward between us now.”

“It’ll only be awkward if you make it awkward.” 

“We’re both awkward people, of course it gonna be awkward!”

Kenma shrugged. “You don’t know that yet. He didn’t look displeased or anything, just confused. He might not have sorted through his own feelings.”

“What if he does and realizes he doesn’t like me like that?”

“What if he does and realizes he _does_ like you?”

Hinata groaned into the blanket and kicked his legs. After his short tantrum, he sat up and sighed. “I guess you’re right. I can’t know until he tells me so I’ll just wait and see.” He bounced up and held a hand out to Kenma. “Now let’s go back before they suspect something and eat all the food.”

Kenma took his hand and let him guide him back to the lounge. His words were honest and he even looked happy now. Kenma smiled sadly. _Is that what it’s like to be normal and not have anxiety? Is that what it’s like to be free of this bullshit and to actually believe the facts and not have your brain beat you up everyday?_ Hinata bounded into the lounge and stole a piece of tempura from Kageyama, sticking out his tongue in victory before eating it. He looked so carefree and happy, like he didn’t have everything weighing on him. _I wish I could have that._

Eventually, Kuroo excused himself for volleyball practice. Hinata was the one with a smirk after Kenma hugged him goodbye. A very _long_ hug. Kenma helped fix up the lounge kitchen a bit more (since Hinata’s earlier flailing only succeeded in making more of a mess). Once things were more or less organized, Kenma said his goodbyes. He was halfway down the hall when he heard Kageyama’s voice. 

“Ya know, you’re a chef, too” he mumbled. 

“What about it?” Shouyou asked.

Kageyama grumbled incoherently, perhaps there was a “dumbass” in there. A quiet pause. A Hinata squawk of surprise. Pleased, airy giggles and mumbling. 

Kenma smiled. _You know, I wish there were a word for secondhand happiness._

~.~

“Why are you pouring salt into your coffee?”

Kenma blinked at Kuroo, stirring his coffee with his fork. “It makes it less bitter.”

“That’s what sugar and cream are for.”

“Stop judging me, it aggravates my anxiety.”

“You’ve all but been diagnosed with anxiety, everything aggravates it.”

Kenma shrugged. He wasn’t wrong. Kenma continued to sip is watery coffee and study his sheet music. It was the song he had chosen for his audition tonight. He already knew all the notes and accents long ago but continued to review it just in case his brain was lying. 

Kuroo scowled at him. Kenma raised his eyebrows and took a bite of his chocolate sauce soaked waffle. “That’s not healthy.”

“Nothing about me is.”

Kuroo frowned. “Don’t say that.”

Kenma snorted. _Why not? It’s true,_ he thought but bit his tongue. He was in a bad mood but wasn’t awake enough to have an argument. He was also a little afraid of what Kuroo might say is Kenma voiced his thoughts. Afraid of confirmation of his thoughts. 

“Is that new music?” Kuroo asked, changing the topic. He looked at the title and sighed. “I know you already have this memorized.”

Kenma bit his lip and shrugged. 

Kuroo worked the sheets of paper out from under his napkin and plate and slipped them into his bag. “Stop working yourself so hard. You’re going to do fine. If you keep this up, you’ll go crazy.”

Kenma chewed his lip and played with his mug. He twisted it back and forth so that the handle rested in either of his hands. The coffee was cold by now and the remaining dregs sloshed around. 

Kuroo rested his hand on Kenma’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s going to be alright,” he said gently. “You’re an amazing cellist and you can do this. I’ll be with you every step.”

Kenma swallowed the lump in his throat and met Kuroo’s eyes. “Thanks,” he choked out.

“Anything,” Kuroo mumbled. He leaned down and kissed Kenma’s forehead, his lips lingering on the skin and his breath tickled his baby hairs. Kenma sucked into a breath and sat rock still. He felt his heart thumping against his ribcage and all his thoughts and worries broke down into one. _That can not be platonic._

Kuroo brushed his thumb on Kenma’s neck. His grin wrinkled his eyes and was filled with encouragement and something too special and warm for Kenma to name. He pulled his hand away and stood up. 

“Now I’m gonna go steal some bananas before all the un-bruised ones are taken.”

~.~

“I think my heart’s gonna fall out of my ass.”

“How can it fall out of your ass when I have it?”

Kenma glared at Kuroo. He smirked and shrugged, not looking at all apologetic. 

“Just trying to help your anxiety,” Kuroo said. 

Kenma inhaled. The ball of terror and fear and nerves still whirled around in his heart, squeezing the air out of his lungs. Its energy oozed into his limbs and made him twitch and shake. It drained the moisture from his mouth and seeped it out his palms. He wasn’t sure anything could ever alleviate his anxiety.

Kuroo placed a hand on his shoulder and rubbed it. “You’ll do fine.”

Kenma swallowed roughly and nodded once. 

“Next. Kozume Kenma,” one of the judges called. They were all in the same, rather large, room, just on opposite sides. There were two judges sat at a flimsy table and a folding chair about fifteen feet away. There were a handful of violinists and violists but only one other cellist. 

Kenma picked up his cello and bow and slowly crossed the room, feeling all eyes on him. He couldn’t even try to convince himself otherwise because auditions by dint of being for judging, meant everyone would be observing him and his every actions. He felt his limbs swing and bend robotically as he sat down. Nothing felt real and it felt all too real.

He picked up his bow and tightened it like he was watching someone else do it. He played the first notes of his chosen piece. He imagined the sheet music and let it take over his hands. He used the anxiety in his muscles to emphasize the accents. He kept his eyes closed. On the last few bars, he opened them. The judges were whispering. They eyes him around their palms that they held up to their ears to hide their mouths. Mouths that were probably complaining about his bland playing or bad posture or poor song choice. He gasped and his bow skittered across the strings, the screech echoing in the empty room. He exhaled raggedly, terrified. The judges had his full attention now. He couldn’t finish the piece. He felt the anxiety bubble up his throat and crash over. 

He was out of his chair before he even registered his actions, his “fight or flight” instinct taking over. His footsteps echoed in the silence. He was even more certain that everyone in that room was watching him, looking disdainfully at his underwhelming performance and his shameful escape. He held his breath as he chucked his cello in the case and roughly zipped it close. He felt hiccups swelling in his throat and his eyes start to tear up. His hands were shaking violently and he felt like he could barely walk. He bolted out of the room, Kuroo chasing after him. A sob slipped out and Kenma felt his body go cold. 

“Kenma, wait,” Kuroo panted, when he caught up. Kenma kept walking, almost sprinting. He just needed to get away, to hide. 

Kuroo grabbed Kenma’s arm, his hand slipping down the sleeve to his hand. Kenma finally stopped and managed to look at him. Worry and concern were strewn around his face, mixing with confusion and fear.

“Not here,” Kenma choked out. He felt hot from all the effort it took to hold in his tears and emotions. 

Kuroo deflated but let Kenma go. Kenma couldn’t even smile as thank you. He just turned away and blinked hard to keep the tears from falling. He didn’t want to go back to his dorm; Lev would be there and ask questions and Kenma didn’t want to deal with that. He kept walking up the stairs and Kuroo unlocked his door. The door slowly closed behind them, loudly clicking shut. 

“Kenma,” Kuroo started. 

Kenma shook his head and crawled into Kuroo’s bed, pulling the blankets over him. He tried to regulate his breathing but it only got faster and faster and more and more panicked. He felt the bed sink down with Kuroo’s weight. _I can’t do this anymore,_ he thought as he felt tears slide down his face. 

“Are you alright?”

Kenma’s strength ran out and all his will drained out. He started crying. Kuroo rubbed his shoulder and scooted closer. He sobs kept escalating and he couldn’t breathe. His throat felt sore from the ragged breathing and his lungs struggling to get oxygen. His face felt hot and his nose ran. 

“I messed up,” Kenma wept. “I fucked up.”

“No you’re not, you did amazing,” Kuroo consoled. “You had one mistake; it was just nerves.”

Kenma shook his head. He sniffled and tried to wipe his tears away but he was crying too much for it to be of any use. “It was terrible, fucking horrible.” His shoulders shook with his sobs and he could barely breathe they were so strong. He leaned his head on Kuroo’s arm and tried to hide.

Kuroo turned around and wrapped his arms around Kenma. Kenma nestled into his chest and cried while Kuroo rubbed his back and whispered consoling words. 

“You did incredible. It’s just a fluke of nervousness that scared you.”

Kenma hiccupped and disagreed, repeating the same phrases, finally letting his thoughts enter the world unfiltered. It was even worse to hear them in his own voice. _I’m untalented. I’m terrible. I fucked up. I’m so messed up._ The last thought stuck in his head. He messed up because of his anxiety. He was there now, sobbing because he’s having another panic attack. Just another in a long series. Tomorrow he would probably have another and the same the day after. He would still sit in boiling anxiety and go about his day as if everything was fine. He would continue to be held back by it, denying him opportunities to do what he loved and to better himself. He could continue to struggle to deal with asking questions in class, if he could even muster up that courage, and to be terrified of walking and eating in front of people, and to isolate himself because he’s afraid of talking to people . His hands tightened on Kuroo’s shirt. 

“I’m such a fuckup.”

“No you’re no-“ Kenma leaned back and silenced Kuroo with a look. _I must look like shit. I can still the snot dripping and my eyes hurt from rubbing them._

“I am. My brain is fucked up. It’s the reason I can’t do anything right,” he said between deep breaths. He could feel this lull in his panicking ending. 

Kuroo softly placed his hands on Kenma’s face. “If it’s not your fault, then why are you beating yourself up about it?”

Kenma choked on his tears and collapsed back on Kuroo. “I don’t know. I’m sick of being like this. I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want this,” he cried. “Why am I like this?” He hit Kuroo’s shoulder and punched his chest but didn’t have enough energy left for it to hurt. 

“I- I don’t know,” Kuroo whispered. 

“I don’t want to be like this,” Kenma repeated into Kuroo’s shirt after that bout of panic tapered down. He felt Kuroo nod. “I just want to be normal for once.” Kuroo’s only answer was to tighten his arms around Kenma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : ^ ) 
> 
> rip this is so dramatic end me ~~but this is how i feel too kenma~~
> 
> i also think I'm almost done here????¿¿¿¿ like only 3 or 4 chapters left
> 
> hmu on tumblr @hipster-yams


	11. Told You So

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kuroken get some happy emotions, lev is observant, kenma makes some choices, and ;)))))))))))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how many times can i write someone waking up in this fic lol
> 
> final chapter y'all, I hope you like it!

Sticky strings of sleep clung to Kenma’s mind and limbs as he slowly joined the conscious world. His body felt like it had become part of the mattress. Too exhausted to groan, he sighed as he wished to go back to the land of dreams. His breath clouded back around his face, warm and smelling of sleep. His eyes ached and he was so sore and drained that he felt like he had climbed Mount Everest. Which is totally impossible; Kenma got out of breath just walking up a couple flights of stairs. He wouldn’t make it more than ten meters up the mountain before waving the white flag. 

Kuroo shifted and the blankets skimmed Kenma’s skin. He shivered from the loss of the warm parts of the fabric. He curled into Kuroo, absorbing all the body heat he could. Kenma remember last night all too well and wanted to disappear, preferably into the warmth. 

“Shit, your hands are so cold,” Kuroo croaked. He twisted his body away from the freezing perpetrators. 

Kenma smiled, his lips pulling tight from being stuck together with dried saliva and sleep. He slid his hands under Kuroo’s shirt and pressed them against his sides.

“Stop that,” Kuroo laughed, voice cracking and rough. He rolled around and enveloped Kenma, trapping his hands in his own. Kenma didn’t struggle but leaned into the new warmth. He pressed his face against Kuroo’s collarbones, not ready to properly face him. They settled into that position, breathing slowly and heavily. 

Clearing his throat, Kuroo broke the silence. “How are you feeling?”

“Like fucking death,” Kenma muttered. His cracked lips brushed against the soft skin of Kuroo’s neck. 

“That’s valid,” Kuroo murmured. He nuzzled the top of Kenma’s head, the blonde locks getting caught in Kuroo’s peach fuzz. 

Kenma hummed. He was pleasantly surprised with that response. He expected “you don’t need to panic” or “it’ll get better” like people usually say. Sometimes confirmation feels better than any else. It made him feel sane and like he wasn’t a freak. 

Kenma swallowed roughly and asked, “Are you afraid of me?”

Kuroo curved his body to try to look at Kenma. Kenma refused to meet his eyes. “Of course not. Why would I be?”

Kenma took deep, slow breaths. “Because I exploded like that. Because that happens a lot. Aren’t you afraid of it? Or annoyed that you’ll have to see them if we stay close?”

Kenma closed his eyes. People generally could understand the sadness or anxiety but as soon as he started having inconsolable panic attacks and no energy or motivation to do things, everyone would step away. They’d be weirded out and disdainful like “Whoa, what the fuck, just _stop._ ” As soon as his mental disorder extended beyond what the media covered, people shied away in fear and disgust. 

“No, I’m not.” Kenma opened his eyes and scanned Kuroo’s face. He bit his lip as he tried to think of the right words. “They’re not your fault and I just want to help you when they happen. I don’t like seeing you in pain. But…,” Kuroo trailed off. 

Kenma tensed. 

“I’m afraid that I can’t help. That maybe I’m not strong enough for the both of us,” he exhaled. His voice wavered with question and uncertainty. 

Kenma drank that in. It was so unlike Kuroo. Maybe Kenma had been thinking Kuroo was this sort of superhero dork who could do anything. _Not everyone is a strong as they seem._

“You don’t have to be,” Kenma said then paused. In a quieter tone, “But you are. You are enough. If- if you want to stay.”

Kenma felt Kuroo’s chuckle reverberate in his chest more than heard the exhalation. “Isn’t that clear already?”

The tension in Kenma’s shoulders melted away with his exhale. The blankets suddenly felt too warm but he wouldn’t move for the world. The feeling of safety and support seeped into him with every breath. Sensing his relief and bliss, Kuroo turned his head and kissed Kenma’s cheek. His lips left a lingering sensation.

~.~

The weird thing with mental illness is that despite all the inner turmoil, the world continues spinning. Life keeps going. Classes kept meeting, people walked their dogs through campus, squirrels hid food for the winter, and the cafeteria’s coffee was still weak.

Kenma avoided the music building like he was allergic to it. His fingers would twitch with the desire to play but he refused to set foot in the place. He showed up to work, but did so quietly and left as soon as possible. Kenma found himself hiding in his room more than ever before, afraid that he would have another panic attack. He skipped class, trusting the syllabi to do his homework. He ordered food and ate it in his room unless someone dragged him to the cafeteria. Even then, he would choose a table far from prying eyes and make his friends wait in the lines to bring him food. 

“Hey, Kenma?” Lev asked.

Kenma looked up from his nest of blankets, blinking blearily. He inclined his head as acknowledgment.

Lev twirled his pencil around his fingers. “Uhm, don’t take this the wrong way but are you alright? You barely eat or go to class.”

Kenma sunk down in his nest, groaning. He shook his head, hair creating static electricity against the fabric as it rubbed against his comforter. 

“Can I do anything to help?” Lev asked hesitantly.

Kenma shook his head again. “I don’t think so.”

“Whatever’s happening,” Lev started, unsure. “It’s not your fault if your brain is doing weird things.”

Kenma stared at him. 

Lev waved his hands, trying to clear his words. “Like, if it’s a mind thing, it’s just like any other sickness. It’s not _you_ , ya know?”

Hunkering down, Kenma processed Lev’s words. This panicky and anxious mindset was the only one Kenma’s known. Is there really something else other than that in him? How can he even separate his brain chemicals fucking up from his own thoughts? Is it even possible?

“It’s like a cold or a broken arm or something. You can get help or medicine to try to fix it,” Lev continued. 

“Kuroo and Hinata said the same thing,” Kenma mumbled. 

Lev shrugged, his lanky limbs and apologetic expression looking like the emoji. 

Kenma stewed on Lev’s words all day. Gathering what little scraps of courage he had, he skipped classes again the next day and forced himself to go to the college’s health clinic. Stepping up to the desk, he was amazed at himself for finally bringing himself to do this. While he did want this hell in his mind to stop, he also felt guilty each day that passed after all his friends told him to seek help. The guilt from ignoring them would eat him alive. 

The visit was quick and clean. The nurse took his vitals, had him sign some papers, and sent in the doctor. Kenma quietly explained his situation and she wrote him up a couple prescriptions, one for the anxiety and one for panic attacks. As soon as the college psychologist was free, he would start sessions with them. Kenma could barely pronounce the names or even process all the details but nodded as the doctor spoke. He took comfort in the fact that a lot of people came to the clinic with the same complaints as him. It was so quick and painless, nothing like the drama he had envisioned. 

Kenma sent Lev to pick up his medicine the next day. He looked ecstatic to be asked to do something and that Kenma had followed his advice. Kenma could imagine him wagging a tail from the excitement. 

Every night, Kenma looked at the little light red pills in the bottle, wondering if they were working. He didn’t feel any different. Except for the insomnia, though that should go away according to the doctor. He kept the emergency pills for panic in his backpack. They made him incredibly sleepy and his limbs heavy. After taking one after a class, he snorted to himself. _Can’t fucking panic if I’m too sleepy, I guess,_ he thought bitterly. He hated the effect but welcomed the fast relief from his attacks. At least he could almost function like a normal person instead of having to run and hide every time. 

Two weeks after the audition, the results came out. Kenma refused to look at them. He ignored the email and tuned out any chatter about it. Kuroo, however, would have none of that.

“Kenma, let me in.” Kuroo knocked on his dorm door. “You’ll want to hear this.”

Kenma groaned loudly before shuffling over to unlock the door. Kuroo bounded in and sat on his bed, shit-eating grin on his face. Kenma collapsed on his face next to him, hip pressed against his thigh.

“Just fuck me up,” he mumbled into the comforter. He could argue either way decently enough, both with logic and emotions. The anxiety from not knowing was eating away at his mind, even though the panic from knowing would probably disable him, too.

“You were accepted,” Kuroo announced, laying a hand on the small of Kenma’s back. “They thought you were amazing.”

The words bubbled up his throat and he vomited them, the acid and self-hate burning his mouth. “That’s bullshit. I messed up.”

“That’s not true, you-“

Kenma bolted upright, fighting sudden tears. “Please. Don’t argue with me on this one.” Kenma felt the explanations and arguments flying around his mind. _You’re so talented. Your song was amazing. They’re lucky to get someone like you. It wasn’t that big of an error._ The anxiety was louder. Panicked emotions were glued to the memories, tainting everything and refusing to let go. As much as Kenma wanted to believe otherwise, nothing would change his mind. 

Thoughts like that made Kenma’s heart clench. Was there even any hope for him? Where does his mental disorder end and his personality and own thoughts start? 

Kuroo sighed. He reached out and cupped his face. “You’ll get better.”

Kenma leaned into his hand, closing his eyes. “I really hope so.”

Kuroo combed his hand through Kenma’s hair. “So are you going to go to the rehearsals?”

Kenma snorted. “Of course.”

Kuroo smiled. “Figures.” He tackled Kenma onto the bed and hugged him close. He ran his fingers up Kenma’s sides, tickling him. 

“I’m not ticklish,” Kenma stated, squirming.

“Are too,” Kuroo countered, moving to Kenma’s back and arms.

“Am not.”

Kuroo tried his legs, his feet, and even his hands. His lights fingers danced on his skin but elicited no response that could be considered “ticklish.” “Are too.”

“Am not.” Kuroo hands brushed the back of his neck, right at his hairline. The jolt made Kenma’s arch away, breath stolen by a laugh.

“Are too!” Kuroo yelled victoriously. 

Kenma laughed and tried to tickle Kuroo back. Their squirming and wrestling rolled the sheets around their legs. They ended up pressed against each other, wrapped in a burrito of blankets. Their hands still lingered on each other’s bodies, trapped by fabric. It felt so natural to be like this. Kenma didn’t feel any pressure to move closer or further. In this moment, he was free from his anxiety of worrying about making the correct choice or his appearance. He only focused on the utter joy and comfort of being close to Kuroo. 

Kuroo pecked Kenma on the cheek, hands still on his shoulders. Kenma turned and pulled Kuroo closer, hands on his neck. The pure happiness of being close to someone who cared about him spilled out of his heart, lightening his limbs and thoughts. Skipping the gentle, Kenma kissed him with an open mouth. Kuroo gave a surprised murp, not unlike a cat after being disturbed, but gladly reciprocated. He bit Kenma’s lip, his teeth leaving a lasting sensation from the force. How odd that it didn’t hurt. Kuroo’s tongue brushed Kenma’s own, and strange and foreign sensation sending goose bumps down his arms. 

_Their tongues battled for dominance._

The line popped in Kenma’s mind. He pulled away, hiding his giggles in Kuroo’s neck. He pressed his lips together, tasting the foreign saliva that was covering them. 

“Did I do something weird?” Kuroo asked, confused.

Kenma shook his head. “I just thought of something dumb.”

“Which was?” Kuroo pressed, drawing out the last syllable. 

Kenma chewed on his lip, testing how hard he could bite before it hurt. It never really did. _I wonder what that can spell for making out._ “You know how in cheesy fanfics they always say ‘Their tongues battled for dominance’?”

Kuroo started laughing. “Would you like to do battle with me, Sir Kozume?” He stuck out his tongue and wagged it suggestively.

“I’m so turned off,” Kenma scoffed. He pushed away and snapped his head up, away from Kuroo’s reach. 

“You wound me so.”

“Shut up, I wanna sleep.”

Kuroo laughed and ran his hands through Kenma’s hair, splaying it out on his pillow. He kissed Kenma’s forehead. “Sweet dreams, Pudding Head.”

“If I re-dye my hair, will you stop calling me that?” 

“Probably not. Does it bother you?”

“Nope,” Kenma answered brightly. He wasn’t sure if it was the medicine messing with his mood or if being around Kuroo made him so relaxed that he could admit things like that but he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know.

~.~

“What _is_ an atom?” Kenma groaned. He collapsed face-first into his textbook.

“I know you’re not good at chemistry but,” Lev said with a confused grimace. 

Kenma held a hand to stop his sentence. He heard Lev shuffle in his seat as Yaku smacked him. Yaku was over often to study or just escape from his own dorm. Kenma liked his motherly presence that he just couldn’t hide with his angry senpai act. He kept Lev in line and exuded an air of safety. 

“Who’s your professor?” Yaku asked. He was sitting on the corner of Lev’s desk, his laptop balanced on his crossed legs. 

“Professor Nekomata.”

Yaku pulled a face of disgust and sympathy. “He is literally the worst. He honestly doesn’t know how to teach. No wonder you’re struggling so much.”

Kenma sat up, pages clinging to his face and almost tearing. “Really?”

Yaku nodded and added, “I’ve seen organic chem majors walk out of his class in confusion about what an atom even is.”

Kenma leaned back. He always thought he just sucked at chemistry. He never bothered to think about any different reasons other than his perceived inadequacy. 

Yaku hopped on the desk and peered at Kenma’s textbook and problem set. “I can help you, if you want.” 

Kenma chewed on his lip. He did not like receiving or asking for help. It made him feel incapable and small. He got enough of that from his brain. He started to shake his head. 

“Too bad, I’m helping you,” Yaku announced. He sat on the edge of Kenma’s bed and started reading the first problem. He glanced at Kenma. “It’s alright to ask for help,” he added quietly. 

Kenma felt a blush of shame crawl across his face. Technically he knew that but just could never _feel_ it. He couldn’t make the idea apply to himself. Eventually he just gave up and settled into his solitary life. 

As Yaku explained the concepts and problems, Kenma felt better. It was a lot less complicated than his mind and professor made it seem. He was grateful for the assistance, no matter how bad he felt for having Yaku explain it. Yaku promised to help him with his next problem set and Kenma felt a relief settle over him. He could pass this class. With help, he could understand the concepts. It may have been a weird side effect or maybe the drugs were working but that realization lifted an enormous weight off his chest. For once in a long time, Kenma felt like he could actually get through this. He knew the feeling would wear off and things would get hard again but the lingering hope was enough. _I can do this,_ he thought.

The unfamiliar feeling of courage and optimism was enough to make him want to cry. All he’s ever wanted was to be able to live his life without all the intrusive thoughts and unjustified fears and constant self-hate. The tiny step away from those dark ideas might have been inconsequential to anyone else but it meant the world to him. It’s not like his problems magically went away. He could feel the reality of his future choices and the need to decide looming but it no longer scared him like before. 

__

~.~

The day of the concert rolled up so fast, too fast. Kenma barely felt prepared. He was at the point where he could play the songs pretty much at the level he desired but it was like he _just_ reached that level. It was like setting the difficulty on a game higher without passing the one before.

At the first rehearsal, Kenma kept his head down and tried to play quietly. He wanted to blend in. He practiced his music every day even though they only had an official rehearsal once a week. Though these people didn’t know him, he felt like he owed them. While it made him play well, the guilt and dark emotions associated with it made him sad. He wished he could play with no regrets or pain, especially the types that came from people’s expectations and judgments. 

Kenma tucked and un-tucked his dress shirt from his black skinny jeans. He squinted at himself in the mirror. He decided to just take it off and put on a black shirt and cardigan. 

“You look fine, you diva,” Kuroo intoned. He was lying on his back on Kenma’s bed. 

“What if I don’t look fancy enough?” Kenma fiddled with the hem of his shirt.

Kuroo sat up. He hair stuck up even more from his lounging. “I swear I saw a violinist go in a pair sneakers and a viola in a mini-dress. You’ll at the perfect level of classiness.”

Kenma played with the toes of his dress shoes, sliding the inner corners off each other. “I guess…”

Kuroo got up and strolled over to Kenma, hugging him around the waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. “You look perfectly fancy and concert-ready,” he said. A smirk spread and Kenma froze. He kissed Kenma’s neck, gently sucking on the skin. “Pretty hot too,” he whispered, his breath billowing over his saliva-slick neck. Kenma gulped. 

“You are literally illegal,” he gasped, pulling away. 

Kuroo struck a pose. “It should be illegal to be this sexy.”

“Nerd,” Kenma scoffed. _Kuro, shut the fuck up, oh my god, I can’t handle you._

Kuroo smirked. “You wish you were this cool.”

Kenma rolled his eyes. Settling with his outfit, he opened his closet to pull out his cello. 

“That doesn’t look like Apple Pi’s case,” Kuroo commented, a knowing look in his eyes. 

“I wish you wouldn’t name my instruments for me,” Kenma sighed. 

“If I don’t, who will?” 

Kenma sighed, dropping his shoulder in an attempt to fight down his amused grin. “Minori let me have it,” he explained. He let a small smile pull at his lips at the memory. 

_Kenma always practiced his most difficult pieces in the shop. The concert songs weren’t extravagantly difficult but Kenma wanted to play them at his highest possible best. The beautiful cello there was almost as familiar as his own at this point. He was playing a part that was stuck in his head when Minori asked him if he was in a show. They were closing up but Kenma was reluctant to put away the cello._

_“Yeah, in two weeks. It’s at the college and free if you want to come listen,” he said._

_Minori smiled. “I think I will.” She rearranged some of her tools, lining them up perfectly. “Also,” she continued without turning around. “You can keep that. I think you’ve earned it at this point.”_

_Kenma’s heart fell out of his ass and he almost fell off the edge of his seat in shock. “I haven’t earned enough money though, Minori-san,” he countered._

_She waved away his concerns. “As long as you keep coming in for work, I trust you can fully pay it off eventually.”_

_Kenma stuttered, “Thank you so much.”_

_Minori winked. “If anyone asks where you got it, tell them to come here.”_

_Kenma fought to keep his expression from breaking into pure joy and gratefulness. “Will do.”_

_She laughed and pat his shoulder, much stronger and heavier than one would assume she could._

Kuroo smiled slowly as Kenma recounted the story. “She sees your talent, too,” he said after Kenma finished.

Kenma bowed his head and let his hair hide his blush. Despite knowing he had talent, compliments, even if they were just facts, still embarrassed him. 

After the details were set and ready, Kenma and Kuroo walked together to the music building, making comments and predictions about the crowd and other players. They parted at the entrance to back stage, Kuroo insisting on a good luck hug and kiss. Kenma flushed at the affectionate gestures but couldn’t find the desire in him to say no. 

Selecting an empty part of the back stage, Kenma opened his cello case. He smiled softly at the sight of the familiar instrument. After picking out the bow and music, he quietly walked to his place on stage and warmed up. He closed his eyes and focused on his sound, ignoring all the other instruments. He tuned, correcting the strings that were too flat or too sharp. 

People started filing in, their chatter growing louder. The sounds echoed in the concert hall, magnifying even the quietest whisper. Kenma avoided looking into the crowd and was glad that the lights blocked out most people anyways. 

Eventually, the conductor came out and hushed the crowd. He explained who they were and their first pieces. He turned around and raised his hands. The entire orchestra moved as one, placing their bows just over their strings and moving their fingers into the position of the first note. The conductor silently counted an empty measure before starting the piece.

Kenma was awestruck by the sound they produced. Everyone was on time and playing the correct notes. His fingers knew where to go before he had even consciously processed the music. The eighth notes grew quicker and quicker for violins while he heard the cellos and the double bass droning on beside him. The ones to his right were playing the melody and the ones to him left playing the middle line. He could feel the notes resounding perfectly in his instrument, fingers moving to form the octaves, and hands pressing the strings with the accents. His movements flowed so smoothly he was in shock though his body knew to continue playing. He shivered listening to the violins play their soli and he lead the dramatic transition. The sounds swept over him like a warm childhood blanket. He’d never felt so at peace and connected with utter strangers. 

This feeling, this ecstasy was why Kenma kept playing. Even through the anxiety and learning how to play and getting better and making more mistakes than he could count, this feeling kept him playing. It was like a drug and he never wanted to stop.

Before he knew it, their part was finished. They had blown through their five pieces and it was time for the main band to take the stage. They all stood and bowed before filing off the stage. The excitement still ran through Kenma’s veins and he could barely stay still. He was overjoyed that he remembered all his accidentals and accents and, most importantly, played no wrong notes. 

Kenma carefully packed up his cello. His band mates congratulated him and he reciprocated the pleasantry. Still high of the performance, he actually meant his compliments. He had barely walked out into the hallway before Kuroo swept him up in a hug. Kenma laughed and held onto his cello with one arm and Kuroo with the other. 

“You were amazing!” Kuroo gushed, putting him down. 

Kenma blushed and looked away. 

Kuroo took his arm and started down the hall. “So how shall we celebrate?”

Kenma shrugged. They passed through the door and the cool night air filled their lungs. _It’s like nature came together to make some kind of symbolism for my life,_ Kenma laughed. “This was my first real concert basically. I don’t know what people do after them,” he said instead.

“Do classical musicians party?” Kuroo wondered. 

“Probably.” 

“It’s weird to imagine all those uptight people twerking to trap music or something,” Kuroo said. Kenma snorted at the idea. “You know, I think you’d be a good dancer,” he added with a mischievous tone. 

“I think you’re wrong.”

“Sources?” Kuroo teased, all hooded eyes and lazy smirk.

Kenma scoffed though his nerves were suddenly hyperaware.

Kuroo snaked his arm around Kenma’s hips, his legs easily matching Kenma’s stride. “You certainly have the body for it.” 

Kenma tried to scoff again and deny it but couldn’t find his voice. All his senses were on edge, feeling Kuroo’s hand on his hips, Kuroo’s side brushing against his every step, the smell of Kuroo’s cologne, just _Kuroo._ It had Kenma breathing shallowly. He wasn’t sure if it was a bad thing or good thing and couldn’t find the brain space to mull it over. Their dorm materialized in from of Kenma as he struggled to clear his thoughts for a moment. 

“There’s no one in my room if you want to hang out there,” Kuroo suggested. His voice was a little stilted and oddly quiet though he was forcing himself to sound casual.

Kenma’s nerves stood on end. _What was happening? Is there some kind of other meaning to those words? How does being in a relationship work? What do I do? I mean, I wouldn’t mind making out with him but what if it escalates? I don’t want that._

All the emotions crashing around Kenma’s brain shattered his verbal filter. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Kuroo jumped away as if Kenma had shocked him. “I- I’m uh.” His face grew redder and hand gestured more frantic with each stutter. Kenma had never seen Kuroo so distraught and embarrassed. 

Kenma broke out laughing. _Honestly, fuck any logic right now. We are the two most awkward people ever._ Kenma felt like he was watching the scene from a third perspective. 

Kuroo’s face fell and he hunched over, trying to hide himself much like Kenma does himself. Kenma put down his cello and hugged him, standing on his tiptoes so he could reach his arms around Kuroo’s shoulders.

“It’s just…” Kenma started. Kuroo froze as Kenma scoured his mind for the right words to match his whirling emotions. “You look really cute when you’re frazzled,” he mumbled, face heating up despite the cold wind. He felt Kuroo lightly rest his arms around him, still hesitant. 

“I do not.”

“Do too.” Kenma hid his smirk in Kuroo’s collar. He was finally on the other side of this type of argument. 

Kenma felt Kuroo’s chuckle. “Do not.” Kuroo countered. 

“Do too, you nerd.”

“Do _not._ ” Kuroo tightened his arms around Kenma and spun him gently from side to side. Kenma clutched Kuroo’s shoulders to maintain is precarious balance on his tiptoes as Kuroo swung them. 

“So fucking do too.” Kenma pulled back just enough to kiss Kuroo. He kept his touch light and smoothing. He could feel the torn skin of his lips from worrying at them slide against Kuroo’s own smooth ones. Kuroo sighed in pleasure and parted his lips. Kenma could taste the sweet gum Kuroo had been chewing earlier on his tongue. Kenma played with the hair at the nape of Kuroo’s neck, gently nudging him into a deeper kiss. He delicately kissed the corners of Kuroo’s mouth, down his chin, and across his throat. Kuroo relaxed into the kisses, his tense muscles calming under Kenma’s touch. 

As soon as Kenma reached the side of Kuroo’s neck, he felt Kuroo stiffen. Kuroo swallowed and took in a shuddering breath. Feeling adventurous, Kenma nipped at the sensitive spot. His nose brushed against his jaw line and his longer blonde hair slipped over the collar of Kuroo’s jacket. He could feel Kuroo’s hands squeeze n his hips and press his face into his shoulder. The muffled noises Kuroo tried to hold in amused him. 

“Uh, you know we’re still in public, right?” Kuroo asked, voice high and thin as Kenma sucked on the skin of his neck. 

Kenma hummed and pulled away. “Fair point.” He glanced at the skin, mildly proud that it was lightly red. 

Kuroo teased him for seeming eager as they walked up the stairs to his room. Kenma still felt as if this were a dream. He knew he wanted this, to be with Kuroo and kiss him and tell him anything. However, he knew he should tell Kuroo he was sex-repulsed. He would have to any moment. But an overwhelming and foreign feeling has taken control of his limbs. It definitely wasn’t lust. Kenma still had no desire for sex, with Kuroo or anyone else. However, the desire to keep kissing Kuroo and to be close guided his actions. Kenma didn’t like this weirdly moving force but also wasn’t in opposition to its desires. 

_Maybe he doesn’t want sex,_ Kenma thought distantly as they walked into Kuroo’s room. The sudden exhaustion of the impending discussion sank into his limbs. He threw himself back onto Kuroo’s bed as soon as they entered the dorm. 

“Dramatic much?” Kuroo asked, lying down next to him.

All the emotions roiling in him were becoming uncovered as the high of the concert wore off and his immediate issues crept up. He didn’t want to panic again. Instead, he would let out his concerns and stop it before it starts. He was having too much fun for the moment to be ruined by his mental illness. “Kuroo, I don’t have sex.” _Well, so much for tact._

Kuroo looked confused. “You already told me this,” he said slowly. 

“Then why were you so embarrassed when you asked me to come to your room?” Kenma asked, turning his head to look at Kuroo. Had he read something wrong? Had he, somewhere along his overthinking, come to the wrong conclusion?

“Because I knew it would sound like that and I was hoping you’d understand that I didn’t mean sex,” Kuroo explained abashedly. 

Kenma rolled over and squashed his burning face into the comforter. _I was wrong. I overthought so hard that I missed the obvious. This is so embarrassing._

“And maybe I just wanted to lie down with you and maybe kiss some more,” Kuroo added shyly. 

“You’re so embarrassing,” Kenma whined. He turned over and hid in Kuroo’s chest. “ _I’m_ so embarrassing.”

“And so what if we are?” Kuroo countered with a happy tone. He wrapped his arms around Kenma and pulled him flush against himself.

“Then thank the gods no one can see us,” Kenma commented, a small smile on his mouth. 

Kuroo smiled, eyes crinkling. His smile was so big that it wavered from all the emotions it tried to convey, all the emotions he couldn’t keep inside. All the love and admiration and joy and hope. He closed the gap between them, pressing their smiling lips together. _This is definitely something I can live with,_ Kenma thought, heart almost hurting from the elation and adoration.

_Things are going to be alright._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter!! This was an amazing ride like I feel like I've learned so much about writing and style and helped some of my weak points and found other weak spots but also really brought out what I'm good at. This is the first long fic I've ever finished without half-assing and the longest continuous story I've ever written. I'm also very proud for writing about anxiety and life in a personal way and like my own struggles and I hope it resounds with some of you, too.
> 
> Thank you all so much for sticking with me on this wild adventure! This turned out nothing like how I thought it would but I'm still really happy with how it evolved. Thank you all for your support and comments and kudos! You all are really important to writing and I don't know if I could have gotten past the first few chapters without all your support. Thank you all again so much!
> 
> hmu with chats or writing requests on tumblr @hipster-yams


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